A Game of Deceptions
by feathers-theangel
Summary: Dean and Cas Smith are a regular couple - or at least, they like to think they are. Both are secretly assassins, both are hiding this secret from the other. They work for different companies and get assigned to the same mission, but something goes wrong, and Dean's organization sets their sights on Cas'. Dean's new mission: Kill The Angel.
1. Lies, Lies, Lies

FRIDAY, APRIL 18TH. 4:36 PM

"Winchester!"

"Winchester!" Someone slapped him.

Dean jerked awake, looking up at several dozen staring faces and one very annoyed Ellen.

"Wha…? I miss something?" He rubbed his face, trying to get the sleep out of his eyes.

"Oh, haha. Yeah, you missed more than half of the whole damn meeting!"

Shit.

"I'm sorry Ellen, I - " His words were cut off by a yawn.

"For crying out loud, somebody get this boy a coffee." Ellen sighed, gesturing to the secretaries with a hand on her hip. She was wearing VM's standard work out uniform; cargo pants, combat boots, a brown tank top and a black jacket. She looked menacing. Two of them rushed out the door, and she turned back to the meeting.

"Now, before we were rudely interrupted by a snoring Winchester, I was reminding you all of the rules. You all still work at Indagator, and we still sell security software. However, some of you have been neglecting to follow the rules, and now because of that, an anonymous source has informed us that the locals are becoming suspicious.

"So! Because of your carelessness, the rules will not only be posted on every bulletin board, they will also be posted on the doorway of every exit and entrance out of VM!"

Several people groaned and Ellen scoffed, picking up a whiteboard marker.

"No, no don't give me that. _You_ did this to yourselves. Now. Can anyone remind me what rule number one is?"

Sarah, the secretary, raised her hand. "Absolutely no weapons on the upper floors."

Ellen nodded and wrote it down, and the others rushed back in, carrying an expresso. One of them set it down in front of Dean, and he thanked her with a smile. She blushed and staggered away, bumping into the wall. He sighed, taking a sip of the coffee. It reminded him of Cas.

"No weapons on the upper floors. We have this rule for a reason, and I'd like to think you all know why." She stared at the room for a couple seconds, and everyone responded with a "Yes, ma'am."

"Good. How about number two?"

"If you forget your keycard, then you can't get in, no exceptions!" Someone shouted from the back.

"Yes! And you know why we have this rule?"

"So that unwanted persons don't end up in the basement, or VM offices." Sarah answered.

"Exactly, Ms. Blake. Each and every one of you are required to slide your keycard before the elevator takes you down. I don't care if there's fifteen of you squished in there." Ellen added the second rule to the whiteboard.

"Now. Number three - yes, Mr. Walker?"

Gordon put his hand down and stuck it in his pocket. He was wearing cargo pants and a beige t-shirt, the same uniform as Ellen. "I'm one of the field agents. I'm an assassin. I don't understand why I have to sit through this meeting."

Ellen crossed her arms and stared at him.

"The rules apply to everyone, Mr. Walker."

"Yeah, but I'm not the one breaking them."

"And neither is Mr. Winchester here, who is _also_ one of our assassins. But other people have, and now you're suffering the consequences of that. You take it out on them, not me. Now shut up and pay attention."

The room was dead silent, and Gordon crossed his arms.

"Right, rule number three. Harvelle?"

Jo was also wearing the uniform, but with a black tank top. She and Gordon stood out from the rest of the group, who were wearing gray and black suits and pencil skirts. Now that Dean was more awake, he was suddenly aware he was the only assassin in the room in a suit and dress shirt. He rubbed his shoulder.

_"Dean!" Jo was shouting at him from a couple feet away, running away from the building at top speed. He was hunched over, feeling his own blood, warm and slippery, drip from his fingers where they were pressed against his abdomen. The stab wound wasn't the problem, not at all. It was the bomb twelve feet away. _

_"DEAN!"_

_He heard a high pitched beeping and hit the ground, an explosion rocking the area and knocking out his hearing. Waves of heat blasted his side, and he felt the pelting of stones and glass, then everything went black._

"Employees of both the cover company Indagator and the organization VM are required to exit and enter from the official entrance and exit only."

"And number four?"

"All assassins and employees that change during hours are required to change back into civilian clothing before exiting the building."

"Exactly. So that means even if you're missing little Tommy's birthday party, you are _required_ to change and use the front entrance before leaving the building. No. Matter. What."

A lady with strawberry blonde hair raised her hand. "What about during an emergency? Like a fire or something?"

Ellen finished writing rules three and four on the board and capped the marker. She turned on the projector, and an architect's map of the building appeared. The ground floor and up was highlighted in blue, the basement in red, and the five floors underneath that - the organization VM, was in purple. There were two blocks of purple with lines leading to the last level of VM. Ellen pointed to those.

"Since some of you seem to have forgotten, this is the map of the company Indagator's building. All 25 floors in blue and the basement in red are on the official plan of the building. The levels in purple are not. The levels in purple are only accessed from an elevator in the basement. The levels in purple, are the organization VM, or Venetur Malum. You all here, especially those who carry out assignments," she glanced at Gordon, "should be familiar with this organization, since you work there.

"Now, these lines here, are tunnels, leading to these." She pointed to the blocks of purple, "These blocks are bomb shelters, with enough food, water, and clothes to last thirty-five people three weeks. If there were a fire, everyone in normal, civilian clothing, would rush out the front and back entrance. Those in drill clothes, such as myself and Ms. Harvelle, would make their way to these bomb shelters until police and firefighters leave the area. There are devices in there that allow cell phones to work, so those of you waiting will be able to contact family."

She switched the projector off. "Remember people, this is a secret organization, and we'd like to keep it that way."

"Now, someone tell me the last and most important rule we have."

Dean raised his hand.

"Winchester?"

"Under no circumstances are employees and agents of both Indagator and/or VM allowed to disclose information regarding anything pertaining to VM and/or VM's assignments." He recited. He knew the rules by heart.

"Perfect." She underlined this rule twice. "And for god's sake people, use some common sense. If it seems like there should be a rule against it, don't fucking do it."

She sighed and looked at the clock. "Alright. You're all free to go. But if you plan on breaking any of these rules - just remember we have a team of highly skilled assassins who have killed, and are willing to do it again."

The group chuckled and people started pushing out the door, Ellen watching them. Dean stretched and got up, throwing his now empty cup of coffee into the trash.

He approached her as the last person filed out.

"Ah, Dean. I expect you hung back to find out what you missed while you were sleeping." She grinned at him and he smiled sheepishly.

"Uh, yeah."

"Look, I know I practically raised you, but I can't keep letting you slide. This is the last time you get to sleep during our meetings and get away with it."

"Yes ma'am."

She sighed. "The gist of it was that we're on high alert now. Our target should be moving into prime position sometime next week."

Dean nodded.

"Hey, how is your brother anyways?"

Dean grinned proudly. "He proposed to Jess last month."

"He did? Well, tell him congratulations from me!" She looked him over and smoothed down the collar of his shirt. "When are you gonna get married, huh? Find someone, fall in love, have kids. That just not your thing?"

He rubbed the back of his neck. "Maybe when I retire." _Maybe then we'll hold a bigger wedding._

She laughed and patted his shoulder. "Fine, when you retire. But I better be invited to your wedding."

"Yes ma'am."

* * *

"Yo! Winchester! They fix the coffee machine?" Ash yelled, seeing Dean approach with his second cup of the day.

Dean smirked. Ash was stationed in front of three monitors, as usual, with Charlie across from him, typing furiously.

"Apparently, yeah." Dean put his coffee down and looked up, only to see Ash already halfway across the room, sprinting to the elevators. He snorted and shed his suit coat, placing it on the arm of his office chair.

The intel room on level 2 of VM was spacious, decorated in black and gray and red. There were stations set up everywhere, much like a lab, and each station had at least two people and four computers assigned to it. Everyone was bustling about, and now that they were on high alert, planning was starting. After planning came the confirmation, then the positioning, and finally the execution. Positioning was supposed to take less than a day, and execution a matter of hours. Most times the team were gone for three days or less.

He sighed and sat down, starting up his computer and opening up the email with all the information about their current target. He was in the middle of reading through the offenses when he heard a whoop and a "Booyah!" from across the table.

He looked up to see Charlie aggressively fist pumping. She flopped down with a happy smile, obviously pleased with herself.

"What?" He asked.

"I hacked into his email!" She nearly shouted.

"But - I thought we already got the target's email?"

"The email address he gives to clients, yeah, but this is his personal email."

"When'd you guys find that?" He inquired, leaning back in his seat.

"About … ten minutes ago." Charlie grinned.

"Awesome." They leaned forward and fist bumped, and Ash came sauntering back, a hot cup of coffee in his hand.

"What'd I miss?" He questioned, putting the coffee down and leaning over to catch a glimpse of what was on Charlie's screen.

"Charlie hacked into our target's personal email."

"Hellz yeah! You shown Garth yet?"

Charlie glanced at Dean. Garth was the operation's leader, but he had taken over after Dean had been removed from the field. He flexed his shoulder, the sting of a simple sentence still lingering.

_"Look, I really don't want to do this, but damnit boy, you're my son. I can't let you take on any more missions." Bobby stated, staring at Dean. The bandages on his ribs and shoulder were due off next week, and he had been eager to get back to regular work. _

_"What - What do you mean I can't take any more missions? Bobby, I'm the best out there and you know it-"_

_"And that's why I can't afford to loose ya!" He shouted, slamming his fist down on the table._

_The silence seemed to reverberate throughout the room. _

"I'll uh, I'll do that now." She stammered, jumping up and rushing away.

She came back a few minutes later, Garth and Bobby trailing behind her. She sat down and both men peered over her shoulder at the screen.

"Huh. Great work, Bradbury. I want you to forward all of these to my email by the end of the day." Bobby remarked, straightening up and patting her on the shoulder. He walked away while Garth continued to look at the screen, grabbing the mouse and scrolling down a bit.

"What's that?" He asked, pointing to something. She opened up the email and they both looked through it, eyes widening.

"I need this and every other email in here forwarded to me too, Charlie. Fast as you can." He straightened up and rushed away.

Dean frowned. "What was that about? What's in there?"

Her hands were already flying across the keyboard. "I need you to add child pornography to the list of offenses."

Dean sat up, putting the coffee down and opening up his company email account. He typed up the message and sent it to everyone involved, and leaned back and sighed. Their current target was the type of guy Dean used to go after. He was always number one on the list when it came to sex offenders, rapists, shady politicians who got their kicks the nasty way. But nowadays he was sitting in his chair, looking for scumbags that the world would be better without. He was the one who planned how the entire assassination was supposed to go, but he was also the one who was stuck at home when everyone else went out and played guns and robbers.

They still had no clear confirmation on where their target was going to be, so Dean had nothing to do. He closed out of his email and opened up some flash game, shooting zombies with ease.

He was about to start another game when an ad in the corner caught his attention. It was advertisement for a ski resort. Which reminded him of something.

"Hey uh, I need to go talk to Bobby about something, you okay here?" Dean asked, getting up from his seat and stretching.

Ash turned and stared at him, and Dean snorted.

"I'll be back." He muttered.

"Sure thing, terminator."

He wove his way through the stations and software, reaching the door that was labeled 'Superior, Bob Singer', and knocked twice.

"Later!" A gruff voice shouts, and Dean sighed.

"Bobby, it's Dean."

He heard murmuring and then the thud of footsteps and then the door was opening and Bobby was sticking his head out, staring at him.

"What is it?" He asked, clearly in the middle of a conversation.

"I need to … ask you a question … pertaining to my home life." Dean replied, looking over his shoulder. Bobby hesitated then copied him, looking both ways before opening his door wide enough so Dean could get through, shutting it almost immediately after.

Jo was sitting in one of the chairs facing the desk, and she looked over at Dean as he entered.

"Dean." She smiled.

"Jo." He nodded.

"So. What's so important about you an' Cas that you had to interrupt my meeting?" Bobby growled, unbuttoning his suit. His hair was combed over, and his tie was yellow. They were on alert.

"Uh .. well .. " he fidgeted nervously, "I … me and Cas' anniversary is in three days, and well-"

He was cut off with a squeal from Jo, who clapped a hand over her mouth. He glared at her before continuing.

"And I know we're on high alert, but I was wondering if I could take a week off to spend time with him."

Bobby sighed and stared at the papers on his desk. "Boy, you're askin' me to let you take a whole damned week off - in the middle of one of our highest profile missions this _year_?"

Dean gestured to the papers. "Yeah, well, it's only April. And you're the one who said my time in the field has been cut to practically zero."

Bobby continued staring at his desk, and Jo huffed.

"C'mon Bobby, it's their anniversary. Let the lovers be."

Dean felt himself going pink.

"Yeah." Bobby finally answered. "Yeah, you can take the week off. But I want that phone on and on your person at all times. You hear me?"

"Yes sir."

"Good. Now get out of my office."

* * *

FRIDAY, APRIL 18TH. 5:47 PM

Cas walked into the community center's locker room and pulled off his shirt, wiping away the sweat dripping from his face. He shed his clothes and stepped into the shower, the cold water a relief to his overheated body. He had been working out for the past hour and a half, and the feeling of his underwear sticking to himself had been unpleasant, to say the least.

He grabbed his soap from the shelf and rubbed himself down with it, the smell reminding him of Dean. It was his favorite.

He rinsed and got out, wiping himself down with a towel and wrapping it around his waist. He checked his phone for messages, finding none, as usual. His and Dean's anniversary was on Monday. He sighed heavily. Dean wanted to take a week off and relax, and Cas heartily agreed; but that meant that they had to talk to their managers, something neither of them wanted to do.

He had a day left.

Cas opened up his contacts and scrolled through them, landing on Crowley. He pressed call.

It rang twice before picking up.

"What is it?"

"Crowley, it's Castiel."

"Yes? What do you want?" He growled.

"I - I need to take a week off."

"You - A week?!" Crowley shouted.

"Yes."

"What in bloody hell for?"

"I'm having a, uh, family crisis."

"A family crisis."

"Yes."

"And what am I supposed to do with the rookie while you're gone?"

"I was hoping Gabriel would take him."

There was a sigh and a pause. "You get five days."

"But-"

"FIve. Days." He growled, then hung up.

Cas groaned and tossed his phone away. He ran a hand through his hair, standing up and letting his towel drop. He had just pulled on a pair of boxers when he heard a knock on the door, and looked up to see Anna standing there, arms crossed. She was wearing regular clothing, having finished her workout earlier in the day.

"You're leaving?" She asked, eyebrows raised.

"What?"

"I heard some of your conversation with Crowley in here. You're leaving? And dumping Alfie on Gabriel?"

"How did you-"

She tapped her temple. "I hear better than most, remember? So why are you leaving?"

Cas growled something about privacy and yanked on a shirt. "Family crisis."

"Right."

He glared at her, and she shrugged.

"Fine, but you're gonna have to deal with the others."

"I know, Anna. Now, if you don't mind, this is the _men's _locker room." he snarked, and she rolled her eyes and left.

He sighed, pulling on a pair of jeans and shoes. He stuffed his boots in his locker and shoved his sweaty clothes in a backpack; slinging it over his shoulder and walking out, locking the door and shutting off the lights. It was a little past five, and the community center had just closed. He made his way through the weight room and the game room, stopping at a door conveying that only employees were allowed past this point. He pulled out a set of keys and unlocked it, running up the stairs and down a hallway before entering a room labeled "Equipment". He knocked.

"It's unlocked." A voice called out, and Cas stepped in. The room was L-shaped, the short side on the left. The walls were covered in floor-to-ceiling wooden cabinets, and Gabriel was standing in front of a shelf, unpacking ammo from a box and placing it in stacks. He looked up as the door opened.

"What can I do for you, Cassie?" He was wearing his usual gray jacket with his hair slicked back, a few day's worth of stubble on his face.

"I have a … favor to ask of you."

"Ask away."

"I'm leaving for a five days and I - I need you to work with Alfie during that time, seeing as I will be out of the state." _And out of the country._

Gabriel stopped unpacking and looked up.

"You're gonna be out of the state? When the fuck is this gonna be?"

"I leave tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?!" He shouted. "And you didn't think to give us a little warning first?! Y'know, like a _polite human being?"_

"It's - It's a _family crisis!_ I wasn't given any warning either!" Cas shouted back. Someone knocked on the door.

Cas whipped around to see Michael and Zachariah standing there, both with boxes in their hands.

"Something wrong? We heard shouting." Zachariah asked, stacking his box on top of Michael's, who brushed past Cas to stand opposite of Gabriel.

"Cas here says he needs five days off. And I get Alfie." Gabe fumed, dropping the box of ammo in his hand.

Michael snorted. "As long as I don't have him, I'm fine with it." He ripped open the top box, pulling out three or four smaller boxes of ammo in each hand and stacking them on the shelf.

Cas turned from Michael to see Zachariah staring at him.

"Why do you need to leave?" The older man asked, maintaining eye contact. Zachariah was one of Cas' least favorite coworkers. Not only was he creepy, he was an asshole as well.

"Finally sick of never getting laid? Gonna go out and buy five day's worth of hookers?" He chuckled, and the others laughed with him.

"Family crisis." Cas growled, glaring at him.

"What? Did your mother finally kick the bucket? Congats." He patted Castiel on the shoulder. Cas resisted the urge to rip his arm from his body, hands clenching into fists and unclenching again.

"It's none of your concern." He replied.

Zachariah huffed and leaned against the door frame. "Fine."

When he said nothing more, Cas turned back to Gabriel, who was stacking the shelves again.

"Will you fucking take Alfie or not?" He exclaimed. Anna was his second choice, but she had already left, and Cas wasn't too fond of the idea of having to call her.

"Yeah, whatever." Gabe grumbled.

"_Thank _you." He enunciated, turning on his heel and shoving past Zachariah.

"Lock the door after you!" One of them shouted, and Cas barely avoided punching a hole in the wall.

* * *

FRIDAY, APRIL 18TH. 7:03 PM

Dean came home to the smell of pizza and an empty living room.

"Honey, I'm home!" He called out jokingly, walking into to the kitchen to see Cas standing next to a box of pizza. He was in a pair of boxers and a shirt, the dryer running softly in the background. Dean threw his keys onto the island and dropped his suit coat on the stool, rolling his sleeves up and assessing the food in front of him. It was meat lovers, his favorite. Cas was still standing opposite of him, smirking. Dean smiled.

"No home cooked meal?" He asked, still grinning.

"Too much work." Cas replied, slinking over to Dean and pulling him in to a kiss by his tie. It was quick and sweet, more of a hello than anything else. They broke apart, and Cas tugged on Dean's shirt.

"You need to change. My laundry is almost done, you can do yours after. The suitcases are in the bedroom." He murmured, sending shivers down Dean's spine. Doing laundry meant they were both going to be walking around in their underwear. Dean tipped his head back and cursed whatever god was up there for five am flights. It was a tradition of theirs, to walk around the apartment in just underwear or entirely naked on laundry day. It was a game of chicken, a game Dean seemed to loose almost every time.

"I'm only getting undressed if you take your shirt off, princess. I wanna see those wings of yours." Dean whispered. Cas took a step back and yanked it off, exposing his tattoos. He had two black rings wrapping around his left bicep, one thicker than the other, and when he raised his arms to stretch, he showed off the wings that were on the underside of his upper arms. Dean sucked in a breath and Cas smirked, slowly backing up to the fridge, purposefully bending over to grab the iced tea, since Dean had refused to have soda in his house.

"Oh my god, Cas, we have to get up in 8 hours." Dean groaned, leaning back against the island and scrubbing a hand over his face. He was half-hard already, and it just wasn't fair, because they had to be awake and ready by 3 in the morning.

He heard a "hmm" and the clink of glasses. Dean let his hand drop and turned to see Cas pouring two cups of iced tea. He reached out to grab one but his hand was smacked away.

"What the hell?"

"You're still dressed."

"Cas, we'll have the honeymoon suite all to ourselves for over a week. You can wait one night." Dean uttered weakly.

Cas froze. "Uh. Right."

"Cas?" Dean questioned, concerned with Cas' sudden change in behavior.

He rubbed a hand across his jaw and sighed. "I spoke to Crowley today. I only got five days."

Dean stared at him before letting out a gust of air, choosing to glare at the pizza instead. Cas worked every day except Sunday, but his hours were shorter than Dean's. This meant they had to be back by Friday instead of Sunday, cutting even more time out of their vacation.

"…Dean?"

"Yeah. Yeah, okay. I'll go change the flights." He answered, walking back to their bedroom. He stripped and threw everything but his underwear into his hamper, silently thankful that Cas and his' laundry was separated. He pulled his phone out of his jacket before dropping it back with the rest of the clothes, opening up the airline's page and switching their flights around so that they'd get back Thursday evening.

He dropped his phone on the bedside table and walked over to the mirror covering the right wall. He stared at his scars, wishing for the thousandth time that they didn't exist. The skin over his right shoulder and ribs and some of his hip was stretched and ugly and pinkish, reminders of the one mission he had failed. He traced his fingers over the lines and the lumps, wrinkling his nose. There was nothing he could do about it, and he accepted that, but it didn't stop him from hating every inch of it.

_He awoke to jostling, his side throbbing and burning. It felt like he was on fire. Dimly, he heard himself shout, with a few voices answering, but he was ridding waves of pain, everything hazy and sluggish. He felt someone press hard down on his abdomen, and he thrashed; the pressure causing the stabbing stinging pain to spread to his abdomen. Arms grabbed his legs and hands held them down, while someone cut off his vest and shirt. He heard something about pants and his name and then he was slipping, the searing pain and the heat dragging him under._

Dean had told Cas that there had been some accident when he was a teenager. It was a flimsy lie, one he wasn't sure Cas believed, but it had been all he could come up with at the time.

He stared at the tattoo over his heart. It was the orion constellation; something he and Jo had gotten together a week before the explosion. It was slightly stretched now, but still recognizable.

"Dean?" Cas' voice is right behind him and he twirled, instinct causing him to raise his arms in a defensive position. Cas was standing there with his hands up, eyes wide.

"Damnit Cas, don't do that!" Dean gasped, letting his arms fall back to his sides.

"I apologize." Cas mumbled, placing his hands on Dean's hips, rubbing soothing circles into the skin. "C'mon, the pizza is going to get cold if we leave it any longer."

He stepped back and took Dean's hand in his, leading him back to the kitchen. They ate in silence, jumping when the timer for the dryer went off. Cas collected his clothes and headed back to their room to pack, and Dean grabbed his hamper and unloaded it into the washer, using stain remover on the dried blood on one of his shirts.

They curled up together by nine thirty, bags packed and ready.

* * *

SATURDAY, APRIL 19TH. 3:31 AM

Dean awoke to hot breath on his neck and the sound of his alarm. Groggily, he tried to shut it off but missed, making it change to some radio station blaring mullet rock. Arms tightened around his waist and he cursed under his breath, trying to sit up. He heard a soft moan and looked down, finally noticing Cas. His cheeks were flushed, and he was gripping the bedsheets.

Dean shut the radio off and rubbed a hand over his face, propping himself up with his elbow. He looked over at Cas again, groaning under his breath. He looked entirely too debauched for three in the morning. Normally, he'd wake up the heavy sleeper with an orgasm, but it was already three thirty, and they had to leave by four in order to get to the airport on time.

"Cas." He murmured, shaking his husband's shoulder. He only sighed.

"CAS."

Castiel groaned and rolled over. Dean huffed.

"I know you're awake. If you get in the shower now, there'll be hot coffee ready when you get out."

He mumbled something unintelligible but sat up, yawning and tipping over onto Dean's shoulder. "Had a dream 'bout you."

"And that's why you get the shower to yourself." Dean smiled. Cas groaned and pushed off Dean's shoulder, rubbing at his eyes. He climbed out of bed and stood there, the obvious tent in his boxers catching Dean's attention. "You sure you don't wanna come?" He raised an eyebrow.

Dean cleared his throat. "Nah, I'll go … make some coffee."

"Fine."

Dean let out the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding when the door to the bathroom shut. He stood and made his way to their closet, pulling out a gray henley and one of his wool coats. He tossed them and a pair of jeans onto their bed for later.

Dean padded into the kitchen, starting up the coffee machine and leaning against the counter. He could see into the living room from here, and the sun was nowhere near up. They'd be in Canada in three hours.

_Dean pushed through the crowd, the sheer amount of bodies packed into one area making him claustrophobic. He couldn't believe Garth had talked him into this. Okay, so maybe he was getting cabin fever after being contained inside for such a long period of time. Maybe he really did want to go party at some ski resort in Canada. But he hadn't expected the place to be so packed. _

_He stopped at the bar and ordered his second scotch, trying take the edge off. Some guy bumped into him and Dean turned to glare, only to be met with blue eyes and pink lips and stubble and _hey_ there. _

_"You mind?" Dean growled, but there was barely any heat behind his words. _

_The guy looked over at Dean with a sly smirk. "Sorry." But he didn't seem sorry at all._

_He picks up his drink and swallows it in one gulp, turning to stare at Dean again. The bartender sets down Dean's drink and he does the same thing, throwing down a couple bills to pay for it. _

_They stared at each other for a couple seconds before the guy smirks again. "My name's Cas." _

_"Dean." He responds._

_"How about you come and dance with me, Dean?" Cas grins. Dean glances at the crowd. _

_"I'd need another drink first." _

_Somehow, after their third round of scotch, he found himself being led into the crowd. Some song with heavy bass was playing, and the alcohol made everything pleasantly fuzzy. Cas grabbed onto his hips and swayed to the beat, forcing Dean to move. They were back-to-front, and he took the chance, grinding down hard into Cas and earning him a groan. His chin was on Dean's shoulder, breath puffing over his ear. Sweat dripped down from his brow and Dean turned his head, now nose-to-nose with Cas. He leaned forward and smashed their lips together, and Cas let go of his hips, allowing Dean to move his body so that he could grab at his sides. _

_They made out like horny teenagers, barely swaying enough to keep time to the music. Eventually they broke apart for air and Dean pulled him close, his mouth at Cas' ear so that he could be heard over the noise. _

_"You wanna get out of here?" _

_He nodded enthusiastically and grabbed Dean's hand and they were both drunk, but not black-out drunk, just drunk enough to not care about where they were or who was watching or what they did or how it was going to feel in the morning. _

_They stumbled a bit but made it out of the sea of people and through the doors, and when Dean looked around he realized he was in the pool room, and people were milling about and there was a huge-ass hot tub right in front of them with only five people in it. He backed Cas up to the edge and let go of his hand, pushed him, and he fell right in, spluttering and splashing everywhere. Dean doubled over laughing and Cas stood up, pushing his hair out of his eyes. He gave a little tug and suddenly Dean was off-balance and falling in too, and the water was hot but not too hot, and Cas was right there so what the hell._

_He surged forward and pinned Cas to the edge and licked his way into his mouth, ignoring the taste of chlorine and the people behind them. He shucked off his shirt and threw it somewhere on the ground in front of him him, and Cas did the same thing. Dean nipped at Cas' lower lip and he moaned, and then someone coughed. Dean looked back to see some lean blonde dude holding a glass of champagne, girls on both sides, staring at them. _

_"Cassie, darling, I'm glad you're finally enjoying yourself, but I'd rather you not do it in front of me, thanks." He smiled politely._

_Dean looked back to see Cas staring at the guy like he'd just noticed he was there. "Right. Apologies." He muttered, climbing out. Dean followed and grabbed his hand, and together they made their way back into the main building, water dripping from their pants._

_"Who was that?" Dean asked, leading Cas to his room. He hoped to god that Garth wasn't in there. _

_"My cousin, Balthazar. He's the one that brought me here. This is his party."_

_"Well," Dean winked at Cas, and the elevator dinged open. "make sure to thank him for me."_

_They rode it up and stumbled back to his room, laughing and shoving and grabbing. He fumbled with his keycard but finally managed to get the door open, and they tumbled inside. Dean instantly peeled off the rest of his wet clothes, Cas doing the same, and they hit the bed together, Dean on top. He kissed Cas again before traveling down, stopping at his collarbone. He nipped and sucked at it, soothing the skin with his tongue before doing it again, stopping when the mark he had created was good enough for him. Cas groaned and ran his hands through Dean's hair, spraying them both with water, but they didn't care. _

_He moved down and nuzzled the inside of Cas' thighs, eliciting a gasp. Dean made another hickey and then licked a stripe up Cas' shaft, swirling his tongue over the head before swallowing him down, inch by inch. Cas watched the whole thing with wide eyes, propping himself up on his elbows for a better view. Dean pulled back until his mouth was just over the head, and Cas fell back onto the bed, his arms giving out. Dean flicked his eyes up to meet his, and the heat in them made Cas moan low in his throat. Dean lowered his head and pulled back again, this time lightly trailing his teeth over Cas' erection, making his hips jerk up. The wet heat of Dean's mouth was amazing, sending little lightning bolts of pleasure up Cas' spine every time he so much as moved. His thighs were trembling in an effort to keep from thrusting up, and then there were hands on his hips, and he let out a breathy moan that was cut off as Dean flicked his tongue over the underside of the head. _

_The heat under his skin was boiling, building up and threatening to spill over. Dean licked up the precome and Cas had to bite his tongue to keep from shouting. He tugged on Dean's hair and he let out a gasp, letting himself be led back to Cas' mouth. He could taste himself on Dean's lips and Dean groaned, flipping them over and raking his fingernails over Cas' back. He moaned loudly, a sound that went straight to Dean's neglected cock. _

_"So - so close." Cas gasped, reaching down and fisting them with one hand. The spit aided him, sending sparks of pleasure through them both. They built up a rhythm, each thrust getting him closer and closer to the edge, the fire burning hotter and hotter before finally exploding and then his orgasm was ripping through him, punching the air from his lungs. Cas wasn't far behind and then he was spilling into the space between their bodies and collapsed on top of him, catching his breath. They laid like that for a few minutes before Dean pushed up, groaning at the mess they had made. He picked up his wet jeans from the floor and wiped himself and then Cas down, before climbing back in bed because it was comfy and they were both too drunk to do much else. _

He was jerked out of the memory by the beeping of the coffee machine, and Cas padded in in nothing but a towel. Dean poured two cups, adding a liberal amount of cream and sugar to his. They stood there in silence, sipping their coffee. He finished his before Cas and took his shower, emerging to find Cas waiting for him on the bed. They dressed together and left, hand in hand.

They bought breakfast at the airport together, and Dean felt a little weird turning his phone off during the flight, but Cas fell asleep against his shoulder and everything seemed like it was perfect.

The flight was a little over and hour and they checked into the ski resort at seven, the same one they'd met at a year and a half ago. They had gotten a honeymoon suite just for kicks, and Dean didn't regret it one bit. The bed was better than he could have imagined, big and fluffy and soft and just right for fucking on. He bounced on it a little, and Cas raised his eyebrows.

Dean stretched out on it, a sly smile spreading across his face. "Wanna test it?"

Cas grinned. "Sure."

* * *

WEDNESDAY, APRIL 23RD. 12:28 PM

Castiel sat back and admired his view. Dean was holding his legs up, exposing his hole, fucked out and sloppy from the two rounds they went this morning. He was panting and flushed, his eyes unfocused.

"Cas." He groaned, voice low and gravely, sending shivers up his spine.

"I know." He breathed, lining up and pushing in slowly, knowing Dean was extra sensitive right now. Dean rested his legs against Cas' shoulders and fisted the sheets, his eyes scrunching up in pleasure. Cas paused and buried himself in Dean's heat with one thrust, making the man cry out.

"Fuck, Cas." Dean moaned. "Fucking _move._"

Cas pulled back and then slammed back into him, and Dean grunted. His hips rocked back at him, silently pleading for more. Cas could feel the sheen of sweat covering them, the slide of their bodies with each thrust. They worked themselves into a rhythm, and the closer Dean was, the louder he got.

He was moaning every time Cas slammed into him, and Cas was so close. He could feel orgasm approaching quickly, the sounds Dean was making bringing him to the edge. He quickly changed his angle and was rewarded with a shout, hitting Dean's prostate. Dean's fingers scrabbled over Cas' back and then he was coming untouched, body jerking, squeezing and clenching around Cas, sending him over the edge with him.

He pulled out with an obscene sound and flopped down next to him, catching his breath. Dean rolled over and wrapped his limbs around Cas' body, falling asleep barely minutes later.

He woke up at three, sticky but satisfied. There was that pleasant soreness that accompanied a good fuck when Dean stretched, and he fell back against the pillows, wishing time could freeze so that he could be stuck in this moment forever. But then his stomach rumbled and he brought back to reality, suddenly aware that he was starving. They'd worked up an appetite that day. He nudged the man sleeping next to him.

"Cas."

"Mmm."

"Caaas."

"Mmmmmm."

Dean groaned and got up, stretching again and walking towards the bathroom. He knew Cas was watching, and added a sway to his hips, lingering in the doorway longer than was necessary.

"If only I had someone to shower with…" He teased, looking back to see Cas sitting up against the headboard. He huffed, rolling his eyes, but climbed out of bed to join him.

They made it downstairs, clothed and hungry, about half and hour later. The resort had a restaurant, and they ate bacon and sausage and eggs and pie together in their own booth near the back. The place was quiet and Dean liked it.

They walked around the resort after lunch, already having done all of the activities that interested them earlier in the week. The resort was at the base of the mountain, so it was warm enough for jeans and a tshirt. They ended up in the garden, admiring the flowers.

"If we didn't live in that apartment, I would love to start a garden." Cas remarked, fingers brushing over a poppy.

Dean sighed. They had talked about it before, getting a house, settling down, maybe adopting a kid or two when they were ready. But settling down meant choosing between Cas and the job, something he wasn't sure he could do.

"Maybe you could start one downstairs, behind the building. Or upstairs, near the pool. You could get one of those planter boxes and do it right up against the ledge. We could ask the-"

"Dean." Cas stroked the Dean's thumb with his, having refused to stop holding hands. "It's fine."

"Are you sure? Because-"

"I said it's fine." He reassured, tugging Dean forward. "Really."

He heard him sigh and turned around, coming face to face with him. He let go of his hand and cupped Dean's face, kissing him softly. He stepped back, tugging at him with both hands.

"C'mon. Let's go swim."

The pool room was excessively large, with a huge pool and a huge hot tub and a huge diving board. It looked exactly the same as he remembered it, with the chairs in the back and the tub in the front and the 9 foot deep end that Dean said was the same color as his eyes.

They were sitting together in the hot tub when they heard Dean's phone. He frowned, reaching over to dry off his hands on his pants then pulled it out of the pocket, checking caller ID before answering.

"Bobby?"

"Look boy, I know you're on your vacation 'n all, but we've targeted The Sheppard and Garth's called in sick."

"And?"

"And by sick I mean pukin' his guts out."

Dean stood up quickly, running a hand through his hair and keeping it there. "So - so you want _me…?" _

"You're the most qualified man on this team, Dean. You were only pulled out 'cause I said so. We need you, and we need you now."

"Bobby, I can't just - "

"I already paid for the plane and there's a ride comin' up for you in half an hour. There'll be another ride waiting for you when you get back, and you'll get directions from there."

"Bobby -"

"Look, I know. But if we miss this chance we have no clue when he'll pop up again. You of all people should know how long we've been searchin' for 'im."

Dean growled and scrubbed the side of his face, gesturing to thin air. "What am I supposed to tell him?"

"It was your decision to keep this all from him when you married 'im. Tell him whatever you need to tell him, I don't care. Just be ready when the ride comes." He hung up and Dean stared at his phone.

A hand touched his arm. "Something wrong?" Cas was looking at him all concerned, and it made Dean angry, because he had to leave in thirty minutes and how the fuck was he supposed to explain this?

"I - uh - they want me to come in. Like, now."

"Now? Didn't you tell them you were on vacation?" Cas' voice is confused and _damnit_, Dean hates everything.

"I did, yeah. But apparently the guy in charge of the meeting is sick or something and they can't get ahold of the backup guy, and this is Microsoft we're talking about. And they're willing to pay me overtime. I'm just - I'm sorry." Dean tossed his phone onto the ground and climbed out, grabbing his towel and wrapping it around himself. Cas followed him, grabbing his clothes.

"And do they expect you pay for the plane?" Cas asked, sounding incredulous. Dean picked up his phone and pushed through the doors, walking faster than normal.

"No, they took care of that. There's a ride coming for us in half an hour."

"Half an hour?!"

"I - yeah. Damnit. I'm sorry. I really am." And he was.

He heard a sigh from the side of him. "Yeah."

"No, Cas, really I'll make it up to you somehow, I promise."

They stopped at the elevators, and Cas was looking at the ground. "It's fine. I understand."

"Cas, -"

"It's fine."


	2. Clap for the Killers

**WEDNESDAY, APRIL 23RD. 9:53 PM**

Their conversation kept running through his mind, over and over again.

"This is getting kind of ridiculous, to be honest." Cas snapped, throwing his clothing into his suitcase with more force than necessary.

"It's paying for our apartment. I'll be back in two days. You won't even realize I'm gone." Dean replied, his back turned to Castiel as he packed up their necessities.

"'Oh, of course I won't, because I've been fucking another man behind your back the whole time. His name's Michael, you've probably heard about him.'" Cas mocked, whipping around to stare at Dean's back. Dean turned to glare at Cas, a remark on his tongue about who he could go fuck if he really wanted, but it died with the look in Cas' eyes.

"I'm sorry. I'll miss you every second, you know that."

"Yeah." Cas sighed. "Me too."

The ride to the airport was silent.

The flight attendant stood at the front of the plane, watching Dean, Charlie, Ash, Jo, and Andy place their respective bags in the overhead compartment of VM's private jet.

"If you would all take your seats, we will prepare for takeoff." She announced, walking past them to the back of the plane where the food and drinks were stored. There were a total of twenty seats on the plane, and Dean sat at the very end of the row by himself, looking out the window. Charlie and Ash sat together in the front, Jo and Andy in the middle, and Victor a row ahead of Dean, deciding to catch up on his sleep.

After the plane took off, Dean found himself looking over the notes Bobby emailed to him about their target. With the recent information they had acquired, they had finally found a window of opportunity to take him out. The local drug lord they had been after was responsible for seventy percent of the cocaine import into the east coast. Bobby had been looking for this guy since 09'.

The initial car ride to the airport with Cas had been one Dean wished he could just erase from time. Castiel insisted over and over that he was okay, that they had done this plenty of times. But Dean knew him better than anyone, and this time was no different from all the others. It still hurt him to watch Dean leave again, and it hurt Dean even more knowing that what he was doing made it possible that he may not come back.

Near the head of the plane, Ash and Charlie looked through a hard drive containing the recent emails of the drug lord only known as "The Sheppard" while Jo and Andy went over tactics in the nearby window seats. Dean was trying to focus on The Sheppard's patterns and contacts, but his mind kept going back to Cas. He rubbed his temples in frustration, the notes Bobby sent him blurring as his anxiety returned. The last thing he wants is to screw up because he couldn't get his husband off his mind.

'Cas is fine.' He thought to himself. 'I'll fine. I'll make it up to him when I get home. We'll be fine.' He tried to will his self into believing, only to shut his laptop with a huff, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

Jo looked over, noticing his distress, and held up a hand to Andy, signaling that she'd be right back. She got up and walked over, sitting in the seat next to him.

"Hey, you alright? Jo asks, brushing off of Dean's dress shirt.

"Yeah, yeah. Peachy." Dean replied, flashing her with a quick smile. He reopened the laptop with a sigh, absently scrolling through the rest of his notes to distract himself.

Jo leaned in, whispering, "I know you hate having leaving him. And I'm sorry that you have––"

"Jo, it's fine. If I say I'm fine then I'm fine, alright?" He cut her off. She shrugged and returned to her seat next to Andy, who began to complain about missing the game on tonight. Dean knew Jo has tough skin, but he knew she didn't deserve him snapping at her when she hadn't done anything to him. He shut his eyes and took a deep breath, hoping to be a little more rational by the time they made it to DC.

* * *

**THURSDAY, APRIL 24TH. 6:01 AM**

Castiel awoke at 6 AM to a blaring alarm clock. He rolled onto his back, staring at the ceiling before rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Dean's side of the bed was cold. The alarm was still going off and in a matter of seconds he was sitting up, ripping it from the nightstand and hurling it at the wall.

He knew Dean was going to bitch about the clock, but his pent up anger from the night before would have to come out someway and the alarm clock happened to be in the wrong place and pissing him off at the wrong time.

His anger really wasn't so much with the clock's buzzing but with the absence of Dean, who should've been back in Canada with him and not off god knows where on some fucking business trip. He understood the circumstances of Dean's work well enough, but of all the damned times to call him in, it had to be during their anniversary? Where he'd been promised they'd be able to relax? The week they intended to spend together was one he had been looking forward to for a while, and with their work schedules, it's not like they got to spend a whole lot of time together just being... together.

After calming down some, Cas rose from the bed, stepping around the smashed clock.

"This shit just won't quit." He muttered, kicking it to the side and walking into the bathroom.

He brushed his teeth and dressed into a pair of gym shorts, a t-shirt, and running shoes before heading out the door. He made his way to the apartment complex's gym and occupied a treadmill. The place was empty and Cas sighed in relief, his lingering anger starting to dissipate. Appreciating the solitude, he started up the machine, walking at a slow pace, and then cranking it up to two mph and transitioned into a sprint. After half an hour of running, he shut off the treadmill and made his way over to the dumbbell rack. Sweat trickled down his neck and pooled at in the small of his back, and he felt the calm that working out gives him after he's had a bad day. He started lifting a twenty pound dumbbell, curling both his arms.

He headed back to his apartment when he was done and made himself a bowl of plain oatmeal, not caring enough to add any sugar or anything to make it slightly more appetizing. He started his coffee and headed into the shower, making sure it was the right temperature. The water pressure was well appreciated to his sore body, pounding against him and soothing his tired muscles. He grabbed the bar of soap from the rack hanging from the showerhead. It reminded him of Dean's smell, the scent of fresh laundry and Old Spice and something musky. He rinsed off and stepped out, drying himself with a towel.

Castiel's mornings usually didn't start this way. On the good days, Dean was the first to wake up and start a batch of coffee, knowing how grumpy Cas is when he hasn't had his caffeine. On the bad days, Dean is away on some fucking business trip and Cas has to get up and do it himself. He feels like a drama queen, but really, he just misses waking up to soft kisses and green eyes and a fresh cup of coffee waiting for him.

He headed into the kitchen, grabbing a mug from a cabinet above the stove. The brew was done, and he poured himself a cup. He preferred his coffee black, and Dean usually had enough sugar in his for the both of them. He blew on it and took a sip, the hot liquid warming him up.

He stood there and finished most of it before heading back into their room with their absurd walk-in closet that Dean had insisted they'd needed. Cas assumed Crowley somehow already knew that he was back in town, he always did. After pulling on regular jeans, a white tee, and a black fitted leather jacket, he grabbed his keys and phone; locked up the apartment, and made his way downstairs to head to the community center, a trek he hadn't thought he'd be making this early in the week.

* * *

**THURSDAY, APRIL 24TH. 9:09 AM**

Dean and the team piled into their second sleazebag motel of the day, right outside of the intercity area of Washington, DC. This was to be their 'base camp' during the entire operation. The lampshades on had holes and various stains that Dean didn't want to think about, and the bedspeads smelled like weed and sour clothes, but right now they had to worry about catching a drug trafficker before catching whatever was probably in this room.

"Ugh, the couch smells like dirty socks." Charlie complained, dropping her bags down and pulling out a fold-up table.

"You'd think for such a high-profile organization they'd at least be able to afford a better room." Victor agreed. Dean just put his bags down on the first bed, staying silent.

"It's for secrecy, idiots. I thought you knew that. You wanna get tracked to some fancy hotel and arrested by the FBI, fine." Jo replied, placing her bags on the ground next to Dean's.

Ash and Charlie both set up their computers on the tables they put together near the dirt stained window, midmorning sunlight pouring through and causing a glare on their screens. Andy and Jo pulled out their guns and rifles, checking ammo and sights. Their routine was almost foreign to Dean, seeing as he was always assigned to tech when he got put on a mission, and now he was supposed to check the guns and the weapons and go through the back up plans and damnit, he wasn't used to this anymore and it pissed him off. He used to be the best, the one everyone went to when they needed a kill carried out, the youngest assassin to reach the highest position they had.

His stomach churned with nerves and misdirected anger, and he said something about getting some air before the door was closing behind him and he was walking, hands in his pockets, passing unfamiliar buildings before stopping at some empty-lot-turned-park and finding a bench to sit down on, head in his hands.

What the hell was his problem? He had never reacted to a mission like this before, not even after his first kill. It wasn't Cas, not exactly, but the thought of getting hurt again frightened him like nothing else. The memory of the explosion, his one failed assassination, was still as fresh in his mind as if it had happened a day ago.

Dean tried to hit him behind his neck but missed, hitting the guy's vest instead. It was a stupid mistake, and he managed to sock the guy in the jaw but another grabbed him from him behind, and Dean could see Jo fighting off another in the distance. He saw the glint of a knife and kicked the guy holding him in the knee, hearing a satisfying crack. He stumbled back but a sharp pain still erupted in his side, making him fall to his knees. His hands immediately went to the wound, pulling out the knife with a shout, blood dripping onto the dusty ground. Dean heard a grunt and the sound of something metal bouncing, then footsteps fading. There was a high pitched beeping behind him, which only meant one thing.

"Dean!" Jo shouted. The blood poured over his fingers.

"DEAN!"

He felt sick to his stomach and took deep breaths, digging his palms into his eyes until lights bursted in his vision. What was wrong with him? He'd done this a thousand times. He tells himself to man up and snap out of this, that everything was gonna be fine because he had one of the best teams in the entire damn company. But what if he fucked up? Dean had thought that he'd never touch a rifle again, had started to believe that an early retirement was good for him. Hell, Bobby made it clear enough that he didn't want and wasn't going to put him at risk like that ever again.

The sound of a loud whistle pulled Dean out of his inner turmoil and he looked up to see Ash striding towards him. Crap. He was the leader of their team; the last thing he wanted was everyone thinking that he was panicking and getting cold feet. Ash sat down next to him, wearing his jean jacket, breath puffing into smoke in the air. Dean stretched back, letting both arms drape across the back of the bench.

"Aye man, you look a little stressed. Jo was worried 'bout you. So. What's up?"

Dean rolls his eyes and looks over to the side, studying the fence and the numerous colors of spray paint adorning it.

"You're lookin' pretty pale man. You sure you're alright?" Ash asks.

Dean took a deep breath and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his legs. He scrubbed over his face with his hands, then let them drop. "I'll be fine. It's just … Look, I'm not here to talk about my feelings. I'm here to do my fucking job. That's all." Dean grunts in frustration.

Ash snorts but doesn't say another word, just sits there in infuriating silence that seemed to stretch on forever. And ever.

And ever.

Dean huffed. "It's - It's just, I'm worried." He states, waving a hand. "That I'm going to fuck this up … And someone'll get hurt."

"Ah, the infamous failed mission that put Dean Winchester out of commission. Yeah, I remember that. But you gotta kick that thing in the ass, man. It happened, and now it's over. You're still one of the best snipers in the company. I know for a fact, that you've been doin' target practice every other week since your accident."

Dean sighed quietly, fiddling with his fingers. Ash was telling the truth, but the nerves in his stomach were still rolling around, whispering what ifs'.

Ash leaned back, copying the pose Dean had earlier. He ran a hand through the front of his hair, obviously searching for the right words.

"You're a bitchin' shooter and one hell of a killer, Dean. Tell you what, when everything goes fine, like it will, you and I will hit up some bar and get ourselves some babes to celebrate." He nodded and looked over at Dean, who was picking at his fingernails.

"Thanks, but I'm not really interested."

There was a moment of silence. "So dudes then?"

Dean looked up in surprise, but Ash just waved a hand.

"It's cool man, I know how to appreciate one fine ass when I see one. We'll get you a guy, then."

Dean gave a small smile. "I appreciate them the same, but I'm really just not interested."

Ash lifted up his hands, and then let them drop. "Fine, your choice, but I'm tellin' you, this whole thing is gonna go fine. You'll be alright."

"Yeah." Dean looked across the street. It was gray and cloudy, and there was still a light fog hanging over the city. Their breath came out in puffs of smoke, and he could hear Ash pretending to be a dragon next to him.

He turned to Ash. "Thanks, man."

He shook his head. "No problem, compadré." He stood up and stretched, turning to Dean, obviously waiting for him to get up. "Now let's go, I feel like my balls are gonna shrivel up and fall off."

Dean smiled and they made their way back to the motel, but all he could think about was home and Castiel.

* * *

**THURSDAY, APRIL 24TH. 9:26 AM**

The second floor of the community center held most of Castiel's co-workers, some he could actually bear to be around, some he wouldn't last five minutes with in a locked room. Cas mada his way up via the elevator in the basement. The basement and the second floor were both cut off from the public, both an employees-only type thing.

The floor was a gray-blue linoleum and the wood is the horrible tan oak that you would usually only see in the Sims. There was a few people walking around, and there was a handful of them that only worked at the community center, with knowledge of The Garrison. Cas passed doorway after doorway before turning, and the linoleum turned dark brown. Crowley was a drama queen. Cas knew he would be angry that Cas was back early. Cas was too.

A few of the lights had blown out, making the narrow hallway more sinister than it was. Deciding not to go in just yet, he spun on his heel and make his way back down to the gym.

But when he reached it, he saw Anna and Alfie at the dumbbell rack. Seeing as they were two out of the five people in the gym, his presence caught Alfie's attention, and he quickly set down a 10-pound dumbbell and jogged over to the doorway where Cas was standing.

"Castiel!" He exclaimed, grinning. "You're back!"

Cas gave him a small smile. "Yes. How are you, Alfie?" Anna stared at him in wary confusion. No one had been expecting him.

"I'm alright, I was just working out before we went over procedures. I had no idea you'd be back so early. But now that you are …?" He started to ask. Castiel was still Samandriel's mentor, and that meant he was responsible for him. The kid was just barely over 18.

"Uh, yes. I just have to talk with Crowley first, and that might take a while. Do what you have planned with Gabriel today, we'll start up again tomorrow. Is that okay?" Castiel explained, looking the kid up and down. He was already as tall as Cas, and he still had at least an inch left in him. He was quickly becoming the tallest assassin they had, and that wasn't always good. If Cas was a good person, he would have told Alfie to run, to take up some other job, anything else but this, anywhere else but here, a long time ago. But he didn't. And now he was his responsibility.

Samandriel nodded and smiled, turning back to the dumbbell rack. Anna was still staring at him, her arms crossed.

"Where is Gabriel, anyways?" He called out to her, not really wanting to step into the gym. She might hold him there and question him.

"Showers." She called back, and he nodded at her before turning back, not wanting to put off the confrontation with Crowley any longer. If he heard that Cas was back from someone else, it would be worse.

He uses the stairs this time, and the dark door at the end of the narrow hall with broken lights makes the whole thing seem slightly eerie. But then again, Crowley loved his theatrics. He raps against the door and waited a moment.

"What? What is it?" A gruff voice barked.

"It's Castiel." Cas replies, nerves twisting up his stomach. Crowley was an impatient man, one who didn't like to be interrupted in whatever he was doing at the time. Especially by an employee that was supposed to be on leave.

"Castiel –– what the hell –– open the bloody door!" He shouted.

Cas did as he said and closed the door behind him. Crowley was sitting at an L shaped hardwood desk with stacks of folders, two laptops, multiple phones, and a bottle of brandy on it.

"Care to explain why you're standing in my office, Novak?" Crowley snapped. He sat back in his chair, sipping his brandy like he did whenever he was annoyed about something.

"I was able to come home early and I thought––" Cas was cut off mid-sentence when Crowley raised the hand holding his glass.

"Do you know what hell I had to go through to get your assignments handed off to someone who was qualified enough to do them? And when I finally do, you waltz your arse into my office. What kind of shit is that, Novak?"

"I apologize, sir, but I am able to do any tasks you set me to." Castiel replied. Cas knew that trying to argue with Crowley was a hopeless cause. He just wanted whatever shitty assignment Crowley would give him so that he could get the hell out of there as quickly as possible.

He sifted through the pile of folders on his desk, flipping through them until he stopped at one he seemed content with. He motioned him forward, and handed Cas the folder.

"Here. I gave it to Michael, but seeing as he hasn't seen me yet, it is now yours. It was originally yours anyways. I want this done by closing, Castiel. Am I clear?"

Castiel nodded and took the folder. He scanned through it and assured Crowley that it would be done before pushing past the door and back into the main hall.

He was looking over a couple documents when he crashed into another body, the papers spilling out all over the floor.

He looks up to see Michael scowling at him, annoyance mixed with amusement.

"So they were right, Cassie's back. I guess the family didn't need you after all huh? They never did before." Michael smirks. Cas just rolls his eyes, not having time to put up with Michael's bullshit.

"Don't you have something better to do?" Cas spat, squatting to pick up the papers. He managed to gather most of them, but Michael snatched up the last few before Cas could reach over.

His expression of amusement was quickly replaced with a scowl.

"This is my assignment." He blurted, glaring at Castiel. Before Cas could explain, Michael had shoved him out of the way and was stomping towards Crowley's office. Everyone could hear the obnoxiously loud pounding on the door and Castiel sighed, following him.

He rounded the corner in time to hear Crowley yelling about interruptions and people with no manners and why was he even paying you. The door was open and Cas walked in cautiously.

"This is my assignment. You said it was my assignment. Why does Castiel have it? He doesn't need it!––" Michael was shouting.

Crowley held up a hand and Michael's words cut off. "You want that bloody assignment so much? Fine. Pair up with Novak and get it done. Now get the hell out of my office!"

Michael stood for a second, fuming, then turned and shoved the paper at Cas.

"Let's go."

* * *

**THURSDAY, APRIL 24TH. 1:34 PM**

"Dean, you got the target in your sights?" Victor's voice crackled through the ear piece.

"Just about. He's got one of his meatsacks covering his back. Once they move enough to the left me and Jo'll take 'em out." He replied.

He and his team had made their way around the DC area to finally pin a location on The Sheppard at a local warehouse he used to hold his deals and house his products. Once Charlie and Ash hacked into the security cams surrounding any nearby buildings, it had been up to Jo and Dean to get up on the roof to make sure the plan was followed through with ease. Dean was laying on his stomach up against the edge, out of sight from anyone who might look up. His rifle was leaning just over the edge, giving him a clear view below. Jo was a few feet away with her own rifle, ready to fire when given the signal.

Dean and Garth were two of the top snipers in the whole company, but Jo had made it her personal goal to try and gain recognition as well. Everyone knew that Dean Winchester was a freaking surgeon with a sniper rifle, so of course he was the one to be called to replace Garth when he was stuck at home puking out his internal organs.

Dean peered through his sights, watching his target shuffle around until he was in prime position.

"We're ready." Dean relayed.

"Great. All teams - target locked. Fire at Winchester's command."

Dean focused, finger on the trigger as he turned on his laser. The Sheppard's bodyguard was looking to the right, watching some guys check bags of coke, and missed the bright red dot appearing on his bosses' bald head. He sucked in a breath.

"Now."

Five shots rang out simultaneously, and the drug lord and his four guards dropped to the ground, brains splattering all over the three men handling the products. Two more shots were heard, and then a third, and by the time his ears had stopped ringing, blood was cooling around the bodies of their targets.

"They got served up cold." Dean chuckled, and Jo punched him in the arm, pulling her equipment up an packing it away quickly.

"Perfect job, now pack up and get out of there. And throw on your secondaries, because having you both in uniform looks suspicious."

"Gotcha, Victor." Jo replied, turning off the bluetooth and throwing it in her pocket. The VM uniform during hits was an olive green long sleeved shirt with boots and cargo pants, with a black down jacket when it was cold. It was unisex and the girls complained about it, but in Dean's opinion, it didn't look half bad on anyone. Secondaries were optional jackets or shirts to hide the uniform.

Jo and Dean both shucked off their jacket and shivered.

"Fuck, it's cold." She remarked, rubbing her arms before pulling out her coat. It was a gray hoodie that she'd borrowed from Andy. Dean copied her, removing his bluetooth and packing away his rifle before switching jackets. They threw their bags over their shoulders and crouched, making their way to the exit before standing up and jogging down the stairs.

* * *

** THURSDAY, APRIL 24TH. 4:43 PM.**

Michael was still fuming.

Before they had left, Cas had bumped into Gabriel in the hall. Alfie was following him around like a confused puppy, and the moment Gabe saw Cas, he was shoving Alfie at him, saying something about how he was done being a goddamned babysitter and rushed away. He didn't have anywhere to drop him, so he had to explain to Michael that they were taking the rookie with them, and he was forced to deal with more of his pissy attitude.

Alfie hadn't said a single thing after loading the car and for that Cas was greatful. Michael had made it apparent the whole ride to the location that he didn't want to be there.

They pulled up next to a couple abandoned buildings in the very back of the downtown area.

"We finally here, Cassie?" Michael asks, and Cas looks up from the papers he was checking.

"Stop calling me that."

"Why? You let Balthazar do it."

Cas glared at him. Michael had one of his trademark smirks on, and lifted his head like he knew he'd caught Cas off guard.

"Y'know, I called Balthy after you left. He said he hadn't heard from you––"

"Stop. Talking." Cas growled, aiming a look at Alfie in the backseat. Michael glanced back and seemed to understand, but the smirk remained. He knew he'd gotten under Cas' skin.

He climbed out of the car and opened up the trunk, no doubt to go and grab the pistol. Cas unzipped his jacket and checked that his knife was still there. He knew Michael wanted him to shoot the guy, but the sound of a gun would attract too much attention. The files were still in his lap, and a hand grabbed them and threw them into the backseat, hitting Alfie. Cas looked up to see Michael throwing down the case, opening it up and loading the gun. He handed it to Cas, ignoring his growl of irritation.

"Look, I saw some kids walk into that alley over there," He pointed to an opening a couple blocks up. "Get up in that building next to it, and shoot him through one of the windows. You know the code."

Cas grabbed the gun from him and tucked it into the waistband of his pants. "Sure thing, Mike." He spat, climbing out of the car. He shut the door quietly and started walking, trying to look as normal as possible.

He approached the alleyway slowly, stuffing his hands in his pockets. He brushed past two kids on his way in and spied his target a few feet in front of him. He kept his head low, and stopped in front of the guy. He had dirty blonde hair and was as tall as Cas, with a bit of stubble and a skeevy smile.

"You Davey?" Cas asks, head still ducked.

"That I am." He leans against the alley wall. "Whatcha' want with me?"

"I was told I could pick some shit up from you."

Davey nods and regards Cas with interest. "Whatcha' want? I got molly, X, kush, and some ice, if you're interested."

"You got it on you?" Cas asks. If the cops find his body with the drugs in his clothes, there won't be an investigation. It would make everything easier for him.

Davey tips his head back. "I got forty grams of molly on me, around thirty pills of x. You lookin' to make a big purchase?"

Cas looks to the alley opening, making sure no one was coming. Keeping his head down, he reaches into his jacket for his knife, then swiftly kicks the man in the groin, making him fall to the ground. He barely has time to gasp before Cas wraps a hand around his neck, pressing his thumb into the man's adam apple. He presses the guy up against the wall and pulls out his knife, and in one swift movement, slices his throat open.

Cas steps back and looks down at his shirt, groaning at the amount of blood on it. Davey was still gargling on the ground and Castiel looked around, sure that there was no one coming. He turned back to Davey's body, wiping his blade knife off on his shirt before tucking it back in his jacket and zipping it up.

A hand grabbed his shoulder and slammed up against the wall, Michael's face three inches from his. "Why can't you take simple orders, Castiel?" He hissed. Cas tried to elbow him but Michael grabbed his arm and twisted it, turning him around and shoving his face into the bricks. "Why the fuck can't you take orders?" He pulled him back and smashed him into the wall again, and Castiel grunted.

"If I say shoot the fucker, then you shoot him. You don't go fucking slitting people's throats. I told you to shoot him. Why didn't you do that, huh?" He spun Cas around and threw him to the ground.

"Because I didn't want the goddamned cops on our asses, Michael!" Cas shouted, jumping up and punching him in the jaw. He stumbled and spat out blood, leveling a death glare at Castiel, but Cas pulled out his gun, aiming at Michael's heart. He stepped closer, keeping the gun up.

"Leave." He growled.

"You wouldn't dare." Michael hissed, but stepped back when Cas switched off the safety with a click.

"I said, leave. Without the car."

Michael gave one last glance at the gun and then walked back, storming out of the alley. Cas sighed and then grunted, feeling the bruises forming on his chest as the adrenaline wore off.

He stomped back to the car, tucking the gun back into his pants. Alfie jumped out of his seat and rushed towards Castiel, concern evident on his face.

"Cas! Michael and I saw you walk into the alley and then when you didn't come out and he didn't hear a gun, he went after you because he thought you'd been compromised and then I saw him run off and –– you're bleeding!" The words rushed out of his mouth and Cas sighed, feeling a headache forming.

"Here, I'll go get the first aide ––"

Cas stops him with a hand on his arm. "What?"

"I - you're bleeding."

Cas frowned and looked at his reflection in the car window. There was a scrape just above his eyebrow, a small one, but it was bleeding enough to worry someone. His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he pulled it out to see a new message.

**Dean:** _I'll be home in two hours. See you soon x_

Cas cursed loudly.

"What ––"

"Get in the car." He growled.

* * *

**THURSDAY, APRIL 24TH. 7:23 PM **

Dean had landed back in New York around five, but procedure and hunger had kept him at VM longer than he'd planned. The ride he'd gotten had dropped him off in front of his apartment, and he'd taken the elevator to the top floor, the 23rd, and fiddled with his keys to the apartment. He unlocked the door and stepped in, seeing the light on in their bedroom. Cas was lying down across the bed, asleep, without a shirt on, the way he liked. Dean smiled to himself. He was only gone for a day and a half but somehow he still managed to miss Cas like he had been gone a month, so seeing him made his heart flutter all over the place. He caught sight of the new bruises spread out over Cas' chest, and his eyes widened.

He dropped his bag with a thump and Cas jerked awake, rubbing at his eyes and staring at Dean.

"Dean?" Cas questions, voice scratchy from sleep. He sat up quickly, eyes flying open. "You're home."

"I am." Dean chuckled, leaning in for a kiss. He pulled back and saw the scratch over Cas' eye. "What happened to you?"

Castiel looked down at the bruises that formed on his chest and looked back up at Dean. "I was - volunteering at the animal shelter. One of the dogs tripped me while I was carrying a crate." He shook his head. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to fall asleep."

Dean exhaled. Cas always came home with injuries after volunteering at the animal shelter. He undid his tie and shucked off his suit coat, undressing until he was in only his boxers.

He turned around to see Cas staring at him, his pupils blown.

"It's a pity you hurt yourself. I was looking forward to some really awesome welcome back sex." Dean teased. He walked over and switched off the light, noting the new alarm clock with a pang. He hated how his work caused Cas to hurt, but there wasn't really much he could do.

He climbed into bed and laid down next to Cas, wrapping his arms around his waist. But Cas was having none of it, and started rhythmically rolling his hips onto Dean's groin, making him groan and bite at Cas' shoulder.

"You're hurt, we're not doing that. You can fuck me when you heal."

Cas flipped over. "How about you ride me tonight. It won't hurt me, I promise." He whispered. His voice was a few octaves lower and it sent shivers down Dean's spine.

"We shouldn't––" Dean gasped, and Cas leaned down, sucking a hickey into the scarring on his collarbone where everything was extra sensitive. He sat up and straddled Dean's hips, continuing his grinding.

Dean gripped his hips, groaning. Logic was being blown out the window, replaced with lust. Cas kept on peppering Dean with kisses and hickeys, making him gasp. He kissed his lips, his nose, his chin, and Dean tilted his head back to let him suck a hickey onto his Adam's apple.

"Missed you." Cas breathed through another hard kiss. They touch foreheads, and Cas strains to see the green irises he's so used to looking at every day. Dean drags his fingernails across the small of Cas' back, making him moan.

"Love you." Dean whispers, licking his way into Cas' mouth. Their tongues battle, and Cas runs his across the roof of Dean's mouth, making him shudder. Cas leans back, panting.

"Love you too." He ran his hands over Dean's chest, over every bump and scar. "Can I sit on your face?"

Dean grinned. "Yes." He tugged on the elastic of Cas' underwear and it came off, and then he was scrambling up, hovering over Dean's face. Dean licked his lips and Cas shivered, bursts of want traveling up and down his spine.

"Please, Dean." He whined, and Dean started kneading his ass, pulling it open and then fuck - licking around the rim. Cas let out a soft moan and then that tongue dipped inside of him and he grabbed onto the headboard, groaning loudly.

Dean's tongue delved in and out, making Cas cry out. He reached down and fisted his dick, pleasure sparking and pulsing throughout him. He fucked himself back down, starting up a rhythm that made them both moan, the vibrations causing Cas to shudder. He pulled off, reaching over for their lube that they stored in the drawer. He threw it next to Dean's head and kissed him with an open mouth, tasting himself on his lover's tongue.

"Need you." Dean pants, licking and biting at Castiel's jaw. "Need you so bad Cas, fuck." Castiel hummed and clicked open the lube, pouring some over his hands and slicking up Dean's dick. He poured out more and reached behind himself, making sure the other man was watching. He was already slightly slicked up from the tonguefucking, so he was able to stick two fingers in, gasping at the burn that quickly turned to pleasure. He scissored and added a third finger, dragging them in and out, searching for that sweet spot inside of him. He added one more and cried out, hitting his prostrate. He continued on until he thought he was ready, panting and covered in sweat.

Dean was flushed red and panting with him, gasping as Cas grabbed his dick and stroked him a few times, standing on knees and lining up the head with his entrance. He slowly lowered himself down, until Dean was fully sheathed. Cas could barely feel the bruises anymore, everything replaced by pleasure. Dean's hands were resting on Cas' hips, rubbing circles into the skin.

He let himself adjust for a few seconds and then started moving, rising up and then falling back down with a grunt. Cas rarely bottomed, but when he did, he put his strength to good use. He continued rising and falling, the burn in his legs making everything better. He was nearing the edge, and Dean's hips bucked up with him. Cas adjusted his position, turning around so his back was facing Dean, and started moving again, moaning when he hit his prostrate again.

"Harder, need you to move." Cas breathed, and Dean obliged.

He sat up and shifted them so that Cas was sitting on his lap, still fucking into him, his movements getting jerkier as he came undone. They were both close, and the fingers in his hips were pressing bruises into the skin.

"Fuck, Dean––so close, I'm–" Cas cried out again as Dean hit that sweet spot and then he was coming, nails digging into Dean's legs. He jerked forward and reached behind him, holding on to Dean's neck as the other man continued to fuck him with no rhythm, coming moments after. They stayed in that position, catching their breath, until Dean pulled out and stood up on shaky legs, walking into the bathroom and wetting a towel for them.

Cas crawled into the middle of the bed, limbs still feeling like jello. Dean wiped him down and threw the towel into their hamper, climbing into bed with him and pulling up the blanket. Their limbs tangled and Castiel drifted off, hearing a soft "I missed you too." spoken against his neck before slipping into a dreamless sleep.


	3. On Your Marks

**TUESDAY, APRIL 29TH. 3:27 AM**

Dean looked around, feeling a faint sense of deja vu. The desolate three story building, the red dirt in dunes all around them, the cold wind nipping at his face. He looked to his side, expecting to see Castiel standing next to him, but the space was empty. He heard a sudden shout and looked up. Cas was crouched over, several feet away, blood dripping through his fingers. Dean could feel panic crash through him like a tidal wave. Cas was hurt. Cas. _Cas. _

"Cas!" He shouted, hearing a faint beeping. The other man looked up, eyes wide.

"Dean! Go!" He yelled, looking too pale, red dirt coating his clothes and smeared all over his face. Someone grabbed at Dean's shoulder but he shook them off, running towards Castiel. He was a couple feet away when the man collapsed, and Dean started running at top speed, vision going red.

Fear gripped him like he'd never felt before. It slipped into his veins and clutched at his lungs, making every breath hurt.

He could hear the beeping getting louder and someone yelling his name, but he ignored it, dropping to his knees and gently lifting Cas up and into his lap. All that mattered was the man in his arms. He shook him, called his name, received no response. He looked up, and the building exploded, fire engulfing everything.

"Dean! Dean, hey, it's okay. I'm right here." He was being shaken, a warm hand on his chest.

Dean shot up, too hot and too cold, shaking and flicked on the light, suddenly realizing that it was just a dream, and Cas was right there. Perfectly fine. He let out a breath that ended in a small sob, reaching over for him, and was enveloped in warmth. Castiel's hand stroked his side, trying to soothe him. They stayed like that until his tremors subsided, his breaths evened out.

Cas shifted, moved them so that they were lying on their sides. "Which one was it?" He whispered.

Dean closed his eyes and pulled Cas closer to him, touching foreheads. "The one where you get stabbed. And then everything explodes." Dean had never told him the exact details of this nightmare. He never wanted to.

Cas sighed. He'd been doing much better lately –– this was his first one in two months. He leaned in and shared a slow kiss.

"We've still got a couple hours until you need to get up…" Cas trailed off. Dean gave him a small smile, understanding Castiel's intentions.

"Do we?" Dean teased, nibbling at Cas' bottom lip.

Cas hummed and smiled, letting Dean's hands roam. They grabbed at his ass and his breath hitched; Dean's leg slotting through his. They continued to kiss with years of practice, sucking hickeys into each other's skin, letting their arousal build into a slow simmer.

Dean groaned and rolled away, rummaging in their drawer for the lube. He pressed it into Cas hand, flipping them so that he was straddling his hips, hissing at the brush of skin against sensitive skin.

"You sure?" Cas breathed, a hand on Dean's hip. Dean was still fragile, and Cas knew they shouldn't be fucking like two horny teenagers in a bathroom stall at a Led Zepplin concert. But it was tempting. Very tempting.

He nodded, moving farther up Cas' chest. He felt nails drag up and down his sides before the click of a cap and the coolness of fingers trailing around his rim. One pushed in up to the first knuckle, but pulled out before Dean could really get used to it, and he huffed. Cas slapped his ass and told him to be patient, knowing that Dean wanted it rough and fast to drown out everything in his head, but that would only be a temporary bandaid on the whole thing. He dipped two fingers in this time, but still pulled them out barely two seconds later, and Dean groaned.

Cas dug his nails into the flesh of Dean's ass and growled. "I'll tie you to this bed if I have to."

"Oh yeah?" His smirk was back. "And then what'll you do to me, hmm?"

"Exactly what I'm doing now." Castiel replied.

Dean narrowed his eyes and called him a tease, earning another slap; but let Cas continue until they were both flushed and panting, little groans escaping through sloppy kisses.

"Sam –– fuck –– Sam's coming over for dinner tonight." Dean gasped, slowly lowering himself down onto Cas' erection.

"What should I make?" Cas asked, letting out a shaky breath as Dean started slowly rocking back and forth.

"Some of your – some of your garlic bread – 'n spaghetti."

"Okay. Will you be home by the time they get here?"

"Yeah." And then Dean moaned, having shifted a little to get to the spot inside of him. "God, Cas. Fuck me."

They both picked up the pace, thrusts getting harder, Dean falling down on Cas' dick the same time Cas' hip snapped up. Dean gripped the headboard, letting out breathy moans as Castiel dragged his nails over Dean's ass and lower back, heat blossoming and adding to the fire already raging underneath his skin.

"Fuck, Dean. _Dean_." Cas moaned, his vocabulary reduced to curses and Dean's name. He took a deep breath and rolled them over, their rhythm barely broken. Dean gasped, a rush of lust burning through him, having forgotten about Castiel's strength. They slowed down and breathed for a minute, Dean gripping the base of his cock so he wouldn't come with just the feeling of Cas throbbing inside of him.

"Are you at the Shelter today?" Dean panted.

"No."

Cas hitched Dean's legs up so that they wrapped around his waist, still buried balls deep inside of him. He placed a pillow behind Dean's ass, and Dean's dick twitched, fairly certain he was about to get the fucking of his life. Cas leaned forward and captured the other man's mouth with an open kiss, licking into his mouth, dominating him in a way that made him shiver. Something between a growl and a moan slipped from one of them, neither sure who it was but not caring either way.

He thrust forward with a snap of his hips, hard enough that Dean could feel it in his throat. Dean could tell the regular Cas was gone. This was the Hot Bedroom Cas, the one who dominated Dean for pleasure. Which turned Dean on in a weird way he hadn't really examined and really didn't want to.

Cas' mouth wandered, moving to the sensitive part behind his ear and down to his jaw, nipping and sucking and marking until he was out of breath. He pulled back and snapped back in, making the headboard hit the wall with a dull _thump_. Dean almost shouted, hands fisting the sheets like his life depended on it. Again, Castiel pulled back until only the head of his cock was left inside, then shoved himself back into Dean with enough strength to make his insides burn. He was grazing Dean's prostate with almost every other thrust. He set up a ruthless pace, thanking god that there were no neighbors on the other side of the wall, murmuring filth into Dean's ear. Dean was nearly whimpering, looking completely debauched and wanton, muscles clenching eagerly around Cas.

Dean's soft chant of _Cas, Cas, Cas _matched the _knock knock knock _of the headboard and the loud slap of skin agains skin. Castiel could feel his impending orgasm and picked up the pace, chasing his building pleasure. He ducked down and planted his mouth right on Dean's adam's apple, making the man gasp loudly. He nibbled and sucked a hickey onto the fading one, getting a broken _Cas, please _that made him groan. He rested his head on Dean's chest, letting his arm press lightly into Dean's throat, the man's gasps getting shallower.

"Cas. Cas, g-god please. Please Cas, need you. Need you to come." He pleaded, and Castiel moaned loudly, slamming into Dean again and again.

"Come for me, Dean." Cas choked out, brushing Dean's hand away and stroking him once or twice and then he was coming with a shout, white-hot pleasure burning through his body, honest-to-god seeing white behind his eyelids. Cas removed his arm and thrust into him a couple more times before coming, brushing against Dean's prostate and sending a new wave of pleasure blazing through him. That was it, he was done, gone, buh bye. He was fairly certain his brain had fried, reducing him to incoherency and whimpers. Castiel gave two stuttered thrusts before pulling out and collapsing next to him, both of them panting like they'd just ran a marathon.

Dean couldn't move his limbs, didn't want to. He was getting the beginning of that pleasant ache that came with a rough fuck, losing a battle to keep his eyes open. They stayed like that for a while, riding out their post-orgasm haze for as long as they could.

Dean fell asleep and woke up again to the sound of a shower running, his naked lover smiling at him from the doorway. He couldn't help but smile back, his brain still foggy with endorphins.

"Hey."

"Hey. There's a double expresso on the table, I figured you'd need it."

"Hmm. Love you."

Cas smiled at him and turned, walking back into the bathroom.

Dean reached over and fumbled for the expresso, squinting as the alarm clock swam into view. 7:34 am.

_Shit. _

He scrambled out of bed, grimacing at the dried come that made the sheets stick to his stomach. He stumbled and groaned, his ass aching as he stood up. What was he, a virgin? He limped into the bathroom and saw Cas toweling off, stopping for a second to give him a chaste kiss before rushing into a two-minute shower, cleaning out the come from his ass and chest. He was still sensitive from their early-morning fuck, and tried not to grimace as his hand brushed his swollen hole. He was so gonna get shit for this.

Dean shut the shower off and dried himself off in record time, rinsing with mouthwash and completely forgoing the razor, hoping his stubble would cover up the brand new red-purple hickeys on his jaw and throat. It didn't.

He rushed back into their room and was promptly handed a pair of black slacks and one of his button-ups. He mumbled a thank you and was pulling the slacks up his legs when he suddenly realized that he wasn't wearing any underwear. He quickly contemplated going commando, but the secretaries would have an aneurism and his ass was having none of it. So he sat back on the bed with a wince, yanking his pants off, cursing when one of his feet got stuck. He looked up to see Cas staring at him bemusedly, Dean's briefs still in hand.

Dean groaned and glanced at the clock, now 7:44. He felt his pants being tugged off of his foot and looked down to see Cas helping him, a small, amused smile still on his face. He handed Dean his underwear and left, probably to get his husband a donut or whatever for breakfast so he wouldn't be puking everywhere by midday. Dean dressed in a hurry, resolving to put on his coat and tie in the car. He grabbed the expresso and chugged it, stepping into his shoes with one of the socks not on all the way because he just didn't have time for that and why wasn't the coffee working yet, damnit.

He bumped into Cas in the kitchen, a travel mug of coffee in one hand and one of those muffin-and-egg-and-bacon things they had made the other day, warmed up in the microwave. He smiled and gave Cas a kiss goodbye, finishing the expresso in his hand and grabbing the one in Cas', shoving his keys into his pocket, and making it downstairs by 7:53.

**TUESDAY, APRIL 29TH. 8:11 AM**

"You're late, Winchester!" Ash shouted, and suddenly everyone's attention was on him. Dean Winchester, assassin extraordinaire, was late. Yeah.

"Yeah, yeah. Can we all just get back to work?" He replied, keeping his chin down, noticing that his shirt wasn't tucked in and a button was open. So much for playing it cool. He flopped down in his chair and then immediately regretted it, wincing and adjusting himself. He took off his coat and loosened his tie, which, in between the rush from the elevator and starting up his car, had become really much too tight.

He took another drink from his mug and scrubbed his hands over his face, taking a deep breath. Traffic had been weirdly congested, and the adrenaline from earlier had worn off around ten minutes ago.

Ash whistled. "Rough night?"

"You could say that." Dean replied, leaning back before remembering the marks Cas had left on him and pitched forward, pretending to sift through the papers he had read yesterday.

"What was _that_?" Charlie asked, and Dean tensed.

"What was what?" Ash leaned forward, trying to get a better look at Dean's face.

"It's nothing." Dean tried, but Charlie stood up and leaned over her monitors.

"Is that a hickey?"

Dean looked helplessly between them, trying for a smile. "What? No!"

"Then what's that?" Charlie asked, bending forward even more, poking Dean right where the bruise was. It pulsed underneath her finger, making him hiss.

"I – Okay, fine. Yes."

Ash looked personally offended. "You banged some chick last night and didn't invite me?"

Dean and Charlie frowned at him, and Ash seemed to understand the implications of his words. "I mean –– I was watching reruns of King of the Hill while you were fucking–"

"Alright, spill the deets. What did she look like?" Charlie interrupted, getting up and sitting down at the chair at the end of their table, where she wasn't blocked by five monitors.

"Uh– brunette, bright blue eyes – great ass," Dean said, stopping himself before he blurted out "cock sent from heaven".

"You have a thing for brunettes with blue eyes, don't you?" Charlie replied, staring at her nails. She shrugged. "I can see where you're coming from though. I still have fantasies about Hermione and Uhura eating me out." She smiled, and Dean could hear Ash choking on his coffee.

She leaned forward conspiratorially while Dean slapped Ash on the back. "So what was it like?"

"It was, uh – rough. And bendy."

"Come on, we're friends. I deserve something better than 'rough and bendy'." She waggled her eyebrows, obviously wanting the dirty details. But Dean shook his head, and she sighed, leaning back. "Fine, I get it. A gentlemen doesn't kiss and tell. Did you get a name?"

He opened his mouth but a name wouldn't come, and he had already used Cassie and Kassidy and Clara and Carrie and Caroline and Cassandra and Carla and Kathy and Kora and his imagination was still asleep. He was saved by Jo, who approached their table almost silently, eyebrows raised at Dean's appearance.

"Meeting in ten. There's a new mark in town." She glanced over at Charlie, who was suddenly extremely interested in her shoes. "I like the shirt, Char."

Charlie blushed and smiled, toying with the edges of her shirt, which was a light grey with a pocket and a cat in the middle. Jo smiled back, sauntering away. Ash snorted a laugh and shook his head.

The first few minutes of the meeting was boring, with the last of VM's assassins filing in five minutes late. The techies, of course, were all on time, and as Dean counted as both, he got to sit in the very front of the room. He got quite a bit of attention with his appearance, with one or two "good on you!"'s and a couple slaps on the back. Bobby stared at him for a good five seconds before snorting and mumbling something about 'young couples'.

The whole room was packed ten minutes after they were supposed to start, but Bobby only sighed before turning on the monitor that was mounted to the wall.

"Alright. We got a new hit." He started, and murmurs followed the announcement. "Hush, this is important. There was a hunter APB sent out late last night. You all know about Nick?"

There were a few "No, sirs" from the back, and Bobby sighed again, unbuttoning his suit coat. His tie was purple today; they were being assigned a new case. Bobby liked to have his ties match the color levels for VM – light blue or white for all good, purple for new hit, blue for during an investigation, green for planning, orange for alert, yellow for high alert, red for success, black for failure. His tie-code made things easier; all you had to do was ask the secretaries what Bobby was wearing.

"Fine, for those of you who don't know, Nick is an extremely skilled – and extremely unstable assassin. He's not attached to any company or organization. He runs as an independent hit man. He's had run-ins with the law and other organizations, includin' ourselves, but we were lucky. He managed to kill seventeen civilians last year and then around June just up and disappeared. He's best known for the bomb that went off last April, where he killed five civilians, along with his target."

Jo coughed out something that sounded a bit like 'satan' and Bobby rolled his eyes. "He also goes by the name Lucifer, but if you feel more comfortable callin' him Nick, then by all means."

"Anyways." He clicked something with the button in his hand and the screen switched to a shot of the guy's face with his height, weight, age, etc. He had a somewhat manic look in his eye and a light smirk, his short sandy hair blowing back in the wind. He had a light covering of stubble and a scar near his temple. Bobby pointed to his hairline.

"This was taken last May, and I'm presumin' that he's probably grown out his hair a little, mostly to cover this scar. If you ask me, he's got kinda a unique face, so he shouldn't be that easy to mix up with someone else. We're sending you pictures of him in your email and to your homes, so you best memorize that face, you got me? I don't want a repeat of last time."

"Yes sir."

He shook his head. "Alright." He switched to a new slide. "Last seen April 11th, in the uptown area, by 17 year old Ruby Cortez. She said that he'd been hangin' around her friend Meg Masters, also 17, for around a month. Meg went missing around two weeks ago. Neither her or Nick have been seen since. Both Ruby Cortez and Meg Masters are emancipated teenagers, and Ruby lives uptown in a house she inherited from her grandparents. Meg was reported to police, but they haven't been able to do much except send out an amber alert.

"Now, because of Lucifer's state of mind, which is probably around psychotic at best, and the fact that there is now two underage civilians involved, this case is being moved up to highest priority. I fully expect those of you in technologies to work hard on this case. We want that girl recovered alive."

He looked up, seeing a hand in the air. "Madison?"

"Is there a reward for … Nick's capture?"

"As a matter of fact, there is. The AMT organization on the west coast has a reward of twenty thousand grand for his recovery, dead or alive." There were a few whistles, and he nodded, eyebrows raised. "I know. Uh, Madison?"

"Is there a specific team assigned to this case?"

Bobby glanced at Dean, clearly thinking hard.

"Actually, I think we're gonna have all teams working on this one. All of you need at least three tech people, and before you go out after him, or scope, or think you've got him in position, you need to come to me, Garth, or Dean first for approval."

Someone scoffed.

"Uh-uh, I'm not havin' none of that. Tell you what, the team to bring him or his body back successfully gets a bonus." There were more murmurs and Bobby nodded, pleased with his incentive.

"Any more questions?" He looked around the room and then glanced at the clock. "Great. Meeting over."

**TUESDAY, APRIL 29TH. 1:43 PM.**

Frm: **Dean**

[1:42PM]

_Ass still super sore. feel like a virgin again, damn you. people keep giving me funny looks. x_

Frm: **Cas3**

[1:43PM]

_Apologies. Isn't there a break-room with a nice couch or something? I remember you talking about it over dinner once._

Frm: **Dean**

[1:43PM]

_New project, big one. it's all hands on deck, but this chair is getting 2 me. keep imagining u eating me out and stuffing me with your cock again. hard ons are hard to hide, cas. x_

Frm: **Cas3**

[1:44PM]

_Maybe you should take care of that._

Frm: **Dean**

[1:44PM]

_Maybe i will. maybe ill scream your name 4 everyone in the building to hear. xxx_

Frm: **Cas3**

[1:44PM]

_I'm at work too. I have to talk to people, without an erection. Besides, your brother is coming over tonight, remember?_

Frm: **Dean**

[1:45PM]

_Wow. i don't think ive ever met someone who can kill a mood quite like you can. over text. i don't wana think about my brother with a hard on, cas. x_

Frm: **Cas3**

[1:45PM]

_Good, because you're only supposed to be thinking about me when you have a hard on. _

Frm: **Dean**

[1:45PM]

_You filthy bastard. xX_

Frm: **Cas3**

[1:47PM]

_Get back to work, Dean. _

Cas stuffed his phone back into his pocket and huffed, throwing the rag in his hand down and sliding the empty magazine back in place. Today he was teaching Alfie how to properly clean weapons. The kid learned fast, and while his presence was one of the least annoying in the building, they had been working for over two hours and both of them were getting bored. Michael was even more of a asshole than usual, and because of the rules Cas had broken completing the last mission, he had been suspended for three days.

He stretched and picked up his weapon, an assault rifle, and carefully put it back into the cabinet. Alfie copied him and put away the ammo, grabbing the rags and towel they were sitting on and throwing them in the laundry basket.

"Alright Samandriel, I think that's enough for today." Cas said, sighing. Alfie nodded. "Just, uh, practice your climbing and first aide. Your tourniquet yesterday was kind of loose."

Samandriel nodded. "Yes sir. It's my turn on bathroom duty, so, I'll see you around, Castiel."

"Sure."

The boy gave Cas a parting nod and left. Cas shook his head. He was tired; but he didn't want to sleep. He wanted an assignment. His muscles were tight, the lack of adrenaline these past few days wearing him out in a way that resting wouldn't help. Crowley would have something.

Cas walked down the narrow hallway, a low murmur of voices getting louder and more distinguishable the closer he got. Should he knock? The last thing he wanted was to piss Crowley off.

He stopped at the door, hearing a woman's voice filter through the wood. A woman?

Cas almost turned back, but he saw Michael approaching and quickly turned. To hell with it. He knocked.

"What is it?!" Crowley shouted.

"It's Castiel."

"And Michael!"

Cas sighed.

"Fine, fine. Come in."

Castiel pushed open the door and walked in, noticing that the woman in the room was, in fact, not on Crowley's lap. Michael followed behind him.

"And who's this brown eyed beauty?" He asked, looking the girl up and down before standing beside her. In Castiel's opinion, she was really quite plain, long brown hair and bangs, brown eyes, pointed nose. She was wearing a simple black tee and jeans, and looked slightly nervous.

"She, is our anonymous source. I'd appreciate it if you two hashed out wether or not you're going to fuck _outside_ of my office, please." Crowley replied, drumming his fingers on the table.

"Oh, so what're we getting this time?" Michael teased, waggling his eyebrows. Cas rolled his eyes.

"Miss, if you'd please." Crowley gestured to her.

She looked at the both of them before uncrossing her arms. "So … the AMT organization on the west coast sent out a blast, that, the independent assassin Nick had gone rouge last year and then disappeared, but then he turned up again in uptown a couple weeks ago, but then he disappeared again, but with a teenager this time. And they want everyone working on it, because he's psychopathic at best and likely to kill people he hasn't been hired to take out."

"You forgot to mention the best part, sweetheart."

"… They're offering twenty thousand dollars for him, dead or alive."

Cas' eyes widened and Michael let out a low whistle.

"I'm assuming we're taking this one?" He asked.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Crowley growled. "Of course we're taking this. Twenty grand boys, imagine what I could do with an extra twenty grand."

"Probably kill more people." Cas answered.

Crowley shrugged. "That's true."

"I'm sorry, Crowley, but I came in here for an assignment." Cas stated, tired of watching Michael flirt with the 'anonymous source'.

"Ah, but I have one for you! Actually, it's for the two of you and Zachariah. Hold on a second." Crowley bent over and picked up the phone connected to the intercom, barked out "Zachariah", and a minute later, said man walked through the door. He looked vaguely impressed to see so many people there.

"Am I in trouble for something? Tell me I'm not in trouble for somethi–"

"Shut up." Crowley snapped. "You three have been assigned to a case."

Michael looked up from the girl's ass.

"The girl Lucifer took off with, she had a friend she was living with. Ruby Cortez." He glanced at the girl. "She lives in a house in uptown, I want you to get as much information from her as possible. If she dies, make it look like a home invasion or something of the like. I don't care. Take whatever you want. She's an emancipated teenager, I doubt anyone will miss her." He handed the folder to Zachariah, and Castiel glared at the carpet.

"Just the three of you, got that?" He glanced at Cas. "Right. Keep it silent. I want you to go after dark."

They nodded. "Good. Now go."

Everyone filed out, Cas and Zachariah back to the stock room, Michael following the girl. He stepped in front of her in the hall, blocking her path.

"You smell really nice, did anyone tell you that?" He smiled gently.

"Not today, no." She gave him a polite smile in return.

"Hmm. Well you do." He looked her up and down again. "Can I get a name to go with the face, miss?"

"Just – Just call me Missy." She answered, eyes raking him up and down.

"Missy. Huh. Well," He leaned forward so that his mouth was right at her ear. "I hope to see you around."

She shivered, and he leaned back and smirked, turning and walking into the room labeled 'Equipment', where Cas and Zach already had duffel bags open. He grinned.

"You get her number?" Zachariah asked, dropping a handful of zip-ties into his bag.

"No, but I got a name. Missy."

"Missy. Huh. What about you, Castiel? You plan on jumping her pants too?"

Castiel looked up, hoping he could have been excluded from this conversation. "No." He coiled up a length of rope and tied it, dropping it on the floor next to his bag.

"No?" Michael laughed, staring at him. "Why not?"

"I'm not interested."

"Not interested? What about all those times you came into work covered in hickeys? That doesn't scream 'not interested', Castiel."

Cas sighed.

"I'm not interested in her."

Michael stared at him incredulously. "Okay."

**TUESDAY, APRIL 29TH. 6:34 PM**

"Sam?"

"Hey, Dean, uh, your apartment's locked."

Dean frowned, getting up from his seat and making his way to the bathroom. "What? Cas' supposed to be there."

"I know, but, the apartment's locked and I knocked and no one's answering."

"You didn't try picking it? I know you know how, I taught you myself."

"Dean." He could practically _hear_ Sam's bitchface through the phone.

Dean sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Alright, I'll call him. Just, wait in the Lobby, something might've come up."

"Sure."

He hung up, looking around. Ash was staring at him with an eyebrow raised. Dean held up a hand, signaling that he'd be right back, and walked down to Bobby's office.

He knocked twice and entered.

Bobby was sitting at his desk, papers spread all around him, an eyebrow raised. Dean nearly growled.

"Would you all stop with the judgmental looks? I had a rough morning, so what?"

Bobby just shook his head. "Whaddaya need?"

"I need to call Cas."

Bobby snorted. "Keep it PG."

Dean rolled his eyes and eased down on one of Bobby's leather chairs, sighing in comfort. "That was one time."

"It was a time I'd like to forget."

Dean huffed and pulled out his phone. Cas picked up on the second ring.

"Dean?"

"Hey, Cas, where are you? Sam's at the apartment and he says you're not."

"Oh, shit– yeah. I was roped into overtime, there's some idiotic event that I have to help set up and clean up at the community center. I'm sorry Dean, I meant to call you and let you know."

"Oh. It's fine, I'll just get off early." He looked up at Bobby, who was giving him a look that clearly said 'you're doing what?'.

"Okay. Great. Apologies again."

"No worries. Love you. Bye."

"Goodbye."

Dean hung up and tried to imitate Sam's puppy face, but by the way Bobby was glaring, it wasn't working.

"Just what, exactly, is going on?"

Dean sighed. "Okay, see, Sam is coming over for dinner tonight, and Cas was supposed to be at the apartment because he gets off work before me, but Cas was roped into overtime, so now Sam's at the apartment with Jess, alone, and probably hungry, … and I promised that someone was going to be there ..."

Bobby stared at the paper in his hands, looking resigned. "Fine, you can get off early. But this is an exception. And I _do_ expect you to invite me and Ellen next time."

Dean smiled. "Sure thing, Bobby."

He called Sam and told him he was coming and then rushed out to his table, telling Charlie and Ash and Andy that Sammy needed him for something and who was to deny that kid anything, right?

**THURSDAY, APRIL 29TH. 6:45 PM**

Cas frowned at the side of the van. They were sitting in the back, waiting until the sun had set enough for them to infiltrate the house. Cas had a pistol in hand and his knife tucked into his jeans, but the whole thing felt wrong. There was no proof that the girl Ruby had ever really done something _bad, _and on top of that, he had completely forgotten about the dinner once their assignment had been handed over. He was supposed to be joking around with Sam right now, and gushing over how _gorgeous _Jess looked, but instead he was in a van, about to torture a possibly innocent girl for basic information. It just didn't feel right.

Michael peeked over the front seats, staring at the sunset. "I think we're good. The sky's going purple."

"Fantasitc." Zachariah clapped his hands. "Gentlemen, we ready?"

Michael was the only one who answered, but they were used to Cas' quietness; wrapping scarves around their faces before pulling up the hoods of their jackets, a precaution against the frequent security cameras in the area. The three men piled out of the van, bags slung over shoulders, and walked casually up the lawn of Ruby's house. Cas went around back, only seeing one light on upstairs. He dismantled the security system with ease and picked the lock, stealthily moving from the back room to the kitchen, where a set of stairs led to the second floor. He saw Michael and Zachariah out of the corner of his eyes, and motioned to stay put and keep quiet. He knocked three times on the wooden banister, waiting a couple of minutes before knocking again. He heard Michael sigh and move over to the door, rapping hard and loud. They heard a shift upstairs and moved quickly, hiding themselves from view in the dark room.

Cas heard light footsteps coming down the stairs and jumped as soon as the girl stepped near the light switch, wrapping an arm around her neck and smothering her sudden screams with a gloved hand. He saw Zachariah grab the ropes as Michael dragged a chair into the center of the room, the girl kicking and struggling, breath coming in short pants as Castiel tightened the arm around her neck. He stumbled over, surprised at the strength in her as she continued to fight him as he tried to force her into the chair, Michael grabbing ahold of her legs. Her eyes widened and she began thrashing wildly, muffled shouts escaping Castiel's hand.

Michael looked fed up and punched her in the stomach, giving them a moment of opportunity as she curled up. Castiel kept his arm and hand in place as Michael and Zachariah tied her arms and legs down to the chair, before handing Castiel a gag, which he promptly placed in her mouth. He stepped back and removed his hood and scarf, breathing hard. He dully noted that Ruby was in a basic tank top and boy shorts. She was actually kind of beautiful.

Michael and Zachariah pulled off their disguises and looked around, turning back to her. "There anyone else in this house?" He asked, sending Zachariah off to sweep for cameras or another security system. She paused and nodded, and Michael sneered. "Don't lie to me, sweet cheeks. I'm gonna ask again. Is there anyone else in this house?"

She shook her head slowly, still slumped forward.

"That's a good girl."

She attempted to speak, but it was muffled by the gag. Michael motioned for Cas to take it off, but as soon as the rag left her mouth she was ready to scream, stopped only by Castiel's hand, forcing her head back.

Michael punched her in the face, and Castiel suppressed a wince. "No screaming." He looked at Castiel, who slowly removed his hand again. There was a cut on her cheek and Michael frowned at it as if it had personally insulted him. She opened her mouth to scream again, but all that came out was something garbled as he swiftly punched her in the kidney. She was pulling in ragged breaths, and he grabbed her jaw, nearly nose to nose with her.

"I said, no screaming." He pulled out a dagger and plunged it through the webbing of her finger, staring her straight in the eyes as she let out a strangled moan. "Or what you'll get will be worse. Got that? Much." He breathed the words onto her face and she flinched, "Worse." He pushed her head back and stepped towards a returning Zachariah, and Castiel watched the blood start to pour from her hand.

"Anything?"

Zachariah shook his head.

"Okay," Ruby panted, voice sounding like she was surprising panic, "Are any of you going to tell me what's going on?"

Zach turned to her, smiling. "So she speaks!"

"We need information on Meg Masters and Nick Beels." Castiel answered.

"And so you decided to break into my home, fucking snatch me up, and tie me to a chair?"

Michael looked around the room, pretended he was seeing it for the first time. "I think so, yeah."

"You're– You're psychopaths! I thought you were gonna …" She swallowed hard.

"Look, you just give us what we want, we'll let you go. Everyone wins."

She spat in his face and he stabbed her in the thigh and she pitched forward, hands clenching and struggling against the bonds, screaming through clenched teeth. Michael stumbled back and wiped at his face, staring at her with fury that Castiel had only really seen directed towards himself. Zachariah stepped forward and punched her once, twice, three times, until her hair covered her face and blood was dripping from the corner of her mouth.

"Now, you gonna be a good little bitch and tell us where your friend Meg is?"

"I don't know."

Michael made a sound of disappointment and yanked his blade out of her leg. She shot up rigidly and blinked away tears, panting raggedly.

"I fucking told you, I don't know! I reported her to the police because she's _missing, _asshole!"

"I don't know, you haven't proved very trustworthy." He dragged the knife across the skin of her chest, drawing a red line of blood, and she hissed.

"I'm the one fucking tied to a goddamned chair. Being tortured by crazy people."

"She's telling the truth, Michael." Cas said, stopping him before he killed her without the info they had come for.

"Yeah, Michael, how about we listen to Mister Strong-and-Silent over there. I'm telling the fucking truth."

"Alright, fine. Fine." He dropped his blade on the floor and walked away, and Castiel heard the blare of a TV start up, some horror movie playing with cheap screams and the sounds of chainsaws filling the heavy silence. Castiel took advantage of Michael's absence and stepped forward, staring her straight in the face. She was already bleeding in several spots, drips of it hitting the floor silently.

"How do you know Nick? How did you meet him?"

"Meg met him. She introduced me to him. He seemed … slightly creepy at first, but he kept to himself mostly, so I didn't think much of him. And then he drove off with her in that van of his and I haven't seen or heard from her or him since."

Michael entered the room, but stood to the side, watching Castiel.

"You say you haven't heard from him. Do you have his cell phone number?"

"Yeah, but it's out of service. I've already tried calling it."

"Give me the number."

She gave him a look. "… But it's out of service."

"I still want the number."

"Okay, let me go get my phone, and I'll give it to you."

Castiel shook his head, and motioned for Zachariah to go upstairs and grab it. He came back minutes later with the red device in hand, and handed it off to Michael, who pulled out paper and a pen.

"There's a passcode on it." He said, motioning to the lock screen. Castiel looked at Ruby.

"It's … 2020." She answered. Michael shook his head, and Castiel stabbed her in the hand. She screamed and Cas pulled the blade out, dully noting that it had cut part of the rope.

"2408!" She yelled.

"_Thank _you." Michael growled.

"What about Meg's number?" Castiel inquired.

"I think it's shut off." She panted. "She hasn't picked up."

"Alright. Can you describe Nick's van for us?"

She looked up at him. "Pussy wagon." She hissed. Castiel stabbed her in the other hand. She cried out.

"Fine! Fine, please. It was a volkswagen van thing, looked old. Yellow and white. The back opened up and we smoked inside."

"What did he look like? Anything distinguishable or unique?"

She stared at them incredulously. "You've decided to hunt down some fucking dude and you don't even know what he looks like?"

"Oh, we know what he looks like." Zachariah answered. "We just wanna hear it from your pretty little mouth."

"Zachariah." Castiel warned.

"He was blonde, wore a leather jacket all the time."

"Care to elaborate?" He growled.

"I'm not fucking J.K. Rowling, alright, what more do you want from me?"

Michael stepped forward and grabbed a bottle from his bag, uncapping it and pouring salt water over the wound on her thigh. She screamed and struggled with her bonds, the skin on her wrists bloody and torn.

"What?!" She gasped. "What?!"

"Where are they now? Did they leave any hints?"

"I fucking _told _you, I don't know!"

Michael punched her again, and she went limp. He scoffed. "Weak."

Castiel frowned at her. She knew nothing. She didn't deserve this.

"Michael, Zachariah." He said, stepping towards them. "We've gotten all we can from her. Take what you want, and let's go."

"She got our names and faces, Castiel." Zachariah protested.

"Fine, we can kill her when she wakes up. We'll see if she knows anything else. Now _go_."

They both rolled their eyes but left, Michael going upstairs and Zachariah heading for the living room. Cas made his way into the kitchen, opening drawers and rifling through them. A few things caught his eye, but none of it seemed good enough to take home. He didn't really want to take anything. This wasn't what he had thought he'd end up doing, torturing girls for information and then stealing their stuff. It was wrong.

He heard movement behind him and spun, quickly realizing it was Ruby. Ruby?

She had a knife in her hand and slashed at him, slicing his arm. Castiel attacked back, punching her in the face before stabbing her in the stomach. She stumbled, unfocused, and he stuck his blade in her throat. She crumpled.

Michael stomped down the stairs, spinning and seeing Ruby's body on the floor. He looked up at Castiel, fuming.

"What did you do this time, Castiel?"

"What did I do? She attacked me. I attacked back."

"She's not in the fucking chair, obviously you did something."

"I didn't tie her down, Michael." Castiel poised himself, ready to fight both Michael and Zachariah if necessary. It had happened before.

He saw Zachariah round the corner, various objects in his arms. Castiel kept his eyes on Michael and stepped towards the chair, legitimately curious as to how she had gotten out as well.

The ropes on one arm were frayed, and had obviously broken. All the others were cut clean. Cas' eye went to the knife still in Ruby's hand. It was Michael's.

"Where's your knife?" Cas asked, staring straight at Michael. He flexed his hands and glanced at the floor in front of the chair, then to the body. His mouth pressed into a thin line.

Zachariah was packing up the things he had nabbed and Michael was still staring at Ruby's body, and Cas saw his exit. He walked into the living room and saw the door to the garage, kicked it open and grabbed the set of keys labeled 'Meg', starting up her car and drove away.

**THURSDAY, APRIL 29TH. 7:47 PM**

Dean pulled out his phone again, checking the time. It had been over an hour. The food was mostly done, and if Cas took any longer it would be cold by the time he ate it, something Dean hated.

"He's fine, Dean." Sam said, sitting at the island. "It's just a bit of overtime."

"It happens to Sam too, y'know." Jess chimed in. "I don't worry, he always comes home."

Sam and Dean spared a look. She didn't know about them, how they had lived before Sam had met her.

They heard shuffling and the jingling of keys from behind the door, and Dean felt the tension start to bleed out of him. Then Cas stumbled through clutching at his arm, and he froze on the spot. He was breathing heavily, and Dean could see blood seeping through his fingers. He watched him throw his keys on the dresser near the door and move for the island, and suddenly Sam was right there in front of him, Jess right beside Sam.

"Cas! Are you okay? What happened?" Jess stepped in front of Sam, helping Cas down onto a stool.

"When we were cleaning up, someone hit me with a crate or something. I didn't realize how bad it was until I was in the car." He glanced at Dean. "I'm sorry."

"No, don't apologize, are you alright?" Dean dropped the spoon he was holding and made no move to pick it up.

"I think so."

"Here, let me help you." Jess stepped forward, putting her hand on Cas' shoulder. He winced in pain.

"I don't want to mess up your dress, Jessica. I can do it myself."

Jess shook her head. "I'm the only nurse in this house, alright? I'm fairly sure you'd be better off being treated by someone with actual medical experience."

Cas hesitated, then nodded.

"Dean?" She turned towards him. "Where's the first aid kit?"

"In the bathroom, bottom cabinets." He replied.

"Great. C'mon Cas, we'll clean you up while the boys set the table." She shot a look at Sam and Dean, and walked away with Castiel.

Sam caught Dean's eye.

"You heard him Dean, it was just an accident at work." Sam said, leaning against the counter, where Dean was finishing up with the food.

"Yeah, I know. It just, brings up some bad memories, alright?"

"I know." Sam bent over and picked up the spoon Dean had dropped, handing it to him.

"I get it Dean, really, I do. But … you have to let it go, otherwise it's gonna eat you alive. Jess is a nurse, and sometimes she gets called in during emergencies, and I used to worry myself sick. Literally. But I let it go, and I think you should too."

"Sam." Dean said, voice low. "Haven't you ever thought that, maybe, Dad left his hooks in me just a little deeper than you? That maybe taking the missions that put a gun in your hand while we were working for Bobby,_ wasn't_ the best idea?" He pulled down the plates.

"Yeah," He answered, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "I guess I just thought that after the crash, you'd be able to be free. And I was wrong. And then when you had your accident and promised to retire from the business," Dean flinched, but Sam didn't notice. "and then you met Cas, and got married. Dean, I don't think I've ever seen you happier than you were that day."

Dean cleared his throat. "Yeah, okay. Help me with the forks."

* * *

Jess sat Cas down and had him take off his shirt and jacket, rummaging through the cabinets, pulling out the first aide kit and placing it on the counter. Her eyebrows raised when she saw the extensiveness of what was supposed to be a simple kit, but seemed to be happier with the things she had. She grabbed a few items and stepped back to him, crouching for a better angle.

"This might hurt." She warned, and Cas jerked with the sting of alcohol. They sat in silence for a few minutes, but then there was a slight tug on his arm, and he looked over to see her frowning at his wound.

"Cas," She started, "Are you sure it was a crate? Because this looks like a knife wound."

"I –"

Jess looked him up and down, paying attention to the seemingly random scars that littered his arms and torso.

"Castiel, is there something going on that Dean doesn't know about? Because these don't seem like the kind of scars someone gets from working at an animal shelter."

"If I was in danger, I'd tell him."

"Okay, but is it putting _him_ in danger?"

Cas frowned and opened his mouth, but she cut him off.

"I don't mean just physically. If Dean finds out that– whatever you're doing that's leaving marks like this on you, is he going to be okay? Or is it going to ruin him?"

"He won't find out."

She stared at him for a few seconds. "Okay."

* * *

Sam took a deep breath, putting his fork down. "Okay, so me and Jess have some good news."

They had all mostly finished their dinners, Castiel being the one with the most on his plate. The stitches in his arm stung and made it hard to use his utensils properly.

Jessica had a blinding smile on her face. "I'm– I'm pregnant."

Dean looked like he'd been slapped. "Pregnant?"

"Yes, Dean." Sam smiled. "We're having a baby."

He blinked, and the news seemed to sink in. "A baby. I'm gonna be an uncle?"

They both nodded, and Dean's face broke into a grin. Cas couldn't help but smile at him.

"Congratulations, Jessica." He nodded towards her, the happy atmosphere taking his mind off everything else. "Do you know if its going to be a boy or a girl?"

She shook her head. "We're going to get an ultrasound next week."

"Next week? How far along are you?" Dean asked, looking like he was about to bounce out of his seat.

"Three months." Sam answered.

"Three _months_?" Dean looked at Jess, who was practically glowing. "You look pretty good for three months Jess, I gotta say."

She laughed."Thank you, Dean."

Dean stood up and grabbed everyone's plates, taking them into the kitchen. "Drinks to celebrate?" He called, bringing out beers and iced tea.

Dean handed out the drinks. "Oh, and Sam. Bobby says the next time we have dinner to invite him and Ellen. Jo threatened to castrate me if I didn't invite her either."

Sam chuckled. "Here? You've barely got enough space for the four of us."

Dean grinned and popped the top off his beer. "You haven't seen our bed."

"Yeah, let's keep it that way." Sam responded, taking a sip.

"It's huge," Jess giggled.

Dean scoffed. "We change the sheets."

"Okay, y'know what–let's just stop right there." Sam pointed his beer at Dean. "You work with Jo, you can tell her the next time we have dinner. You can all come over to our apartment."

"Jo?" Jess looked at Sam. "Isn't she like your cousin or something?"

"Half sister. More or less."

"Oh." Jess still looked confused.

"Bobby and Ellen are our adoptive parents, Jo is their daughter." Dean explained.

"I didn't know Bobby and Ellen were your adoptive parents."

Sam shrugged. "They're our parents. Adoptive or not."

Sam and Jess stayed until well past nine, with hugs and kisses given out at the door.

"I love you." Dean murmured, after they had curled up together in bed. "Don't ever fucking forget that." He pressed a kiss into Cas' jaw. "I love you."

"I love you."


End file.
